Keizoku: A Japanese Philosophy to Stop Quitting Everything You Start

You know that feeling when you start something new, maybe it's reading, working out, or learning a new skill, and you are super excited about it? You buy all the stuff, make all these plans, and then a few weeks later you just stop, and then the guilt sets in, right? That voice in your head starts going, "Why do I always quit everything? Why can't I just stick to something else?" It's not that you're a pathological quitter or you hate these things, and what if I told you that you don't actually need to be consistent to get results? In fact, quitting might be exactly what you need.

I have ADHD, and for the longest time I thought I was just horrible at committing to things. I would get, like, super interested in something, get super obsessed about it, and then abandon it, but what I realized is that I'm not actually quitting these things; I'm coming back to them even if years have passed. Realizing this made me stop feeling guilty all the time. Let me give you an example: as someone who identifies as a reader and credits books as a Cornerstone of my personal development and how I see the world, I used to beat myself whenever I went through periods without touching a book.

You know, sometimes I read for hours every day and other times I don't read at all, and most people will identify as quitting reading. I don't, even during the periods where I don't read at all, because it doesn't change my identity of being a reader. I realize that during these non-reading periods I often find myself actually applying what I've learned instead of just consuming more information. Another example is my YouTube channel back in 2016—9 years ago (gosh, it feel so weird to say that 2016 is like 9 years ago, maximum four anyway).

Like, in 2016 I started my first YouTube channel and I was obsessed with beauty tutorials, and I was ready to become the next big Creator. But after a year of struggling to reach even th000 subscribers, I just stopped. Most of my friends asked me whether I quit; I didn't. Everyone around me was like, "Oh, so you quit YouTube," and I get why they thought that—I mean, I didn't upload for years.

But here's the thing: I wasn't quitting, I was actually learning behind the scenes. I was studying everything about the platform, figuring out like who I was, what I actually wanted to say instead of copying others. And when I came back in 2020 with a Clear Vision and strategy, we actually gained like 100k subscribers in just 3 months. And it might sound like I just got lucky even though I quit, but I think differently now.

I know what you're thinking—that's just like lucky timing or that quitting worked out—but that's not how I see it at all. It actually reminds me of this Japanese concept called quok. I love this because it's so different from how the Western world thinks about consistency. I feel like the consistency, you know, the world in the west is more about doing the same thing every single day, day in, day out, but quok is about persistent adaptability.

It's not about perfect execution; it's about finding different ways to show up, even sometimes that means taking a step back. So how do we turn this inside into an actual practical change? How do we know when we are truly giving up on something versus taking a strategic pause? I developed a simple framework that helps me figure out, and I want to share it with you now.

Before I share this framework with you, I want you to challenge your current mindset around quitting. Think about trees for a second—we don't expect trees to bloom all year around, right? They have the seasons of their growth, seasons of blooming, maybe seasons of harvest, and a season where they appear to be doing nothing at all, but here's the thing: even in winter, when it looks like nothing's happening, the tree is actually preparing for its next phase of growth.

And I feel like we're not so different. Just like a tree, you have your own seasons and cycles. Sometimes you're in full bloom, full energy and creativity, and other times you might seem dormant on the surface, but you're actually gathering resources, processing experiences, and preparing for your next growth season. The problem isn't that we have these cycles; the problem is that we have been taught to fight against them.

Here's what helped me figure out whether I was actually quitting something or just taking a strategic pause: I call this my Koka framework, and I asked myself three simple questions. If you want to get the free template of my Koka framework and answer these questions, check the description below. So, the first question is, "Am I running on autopilot?" This is huge because there is a big difference between intentionally doing something and just going through the motions.

You know, like for example with my reading habit—I noticed that I was sometimes reading just to hit my book-per-week goal so that I can say, "I read 50 Books A Year" without absorbing or implementing anything, and that's autopilot. Check in with yourself: how's your energy when you're doing this thing? Are you actually engaged or just dragging yourself through it? Ask yourself if you're doing it for the original reason you started.

The second question is, "What season am I in?" This might sound a bit weird at first, but listen. In my opinion, our lives have different seasons, just like nature does. Sometimes you're in a learning season, like you're trying to soak up information like a sponge, learning skills and stuff like that, and other times you are in an integration season—that's where you're actually practicing and implementing everything you learned.

Then there's the creation season—that's your time to build, to make, to put stuff out there—and we also have the rest season, which is when you are recharging and reflecting. Each season requires a different type of engagement, even though I always forget about the rest season. During my YouTube break, I recognized that I was in a learning season, not in a creation season; I wasn't ready for creating when I hadn't done my work learning things, because fighting against that would have produced mediocre content (which you can actually F some of on my old Channel, just type this).

And the third question—this is actually my favorite—is, "What is the smallest way I can stay connected?" This is about maintaining momentum without overwhelming yourself. I make sure to ask myself this because I have an All or Nothing attitude, and even though I'm the one who's preaching that quitting is fine, I still mentally struggle with it. There's a voice in my head saying, "You are not doing enough," so I asked myself, "What is the minimum effective dose of this activity that would still feel meaningful? How can I make it so simple that I can't say no? What's the version of this that actually fits into my life right now?" Emphasis on my life right now.

For example, during my busy periods, my reading might look like 5 minutes of audiobook during my morning routine, or having a dedicated book date with myself maybe once a month instead of daily reading. I try to remind myself that I don't have to go all in all the time, even though my unbelievably high expectations and self-criticism say so. This framework helped me turn what could have been quitting into a strategic pause that ultimately led to bigger success, in my opinion.

Now, I know some of you might be thinking right now, "What if I take a break and never come back? What if I'm just making excuses?" These are the questions that I always ask myself, like, "What if I lose all my progress?" I completely get that because that's what I also fear a lot, and I honestly still struggled with them even last week. I got myself panicking about taking a break from content creation for just a little bit, and you know what actually helped me? Getting really honest with myself.

This is how I like to differentiate between a strategic pause and an excuse. First, look at your patterns of thought: when you're making excuses, you are usually running away from something—maybe the difficulty, the fear of failure—but when you're taking a strategic pause, you're moving toward something like a better understanding, clear vision, and renewed energy. Second, check your emotions: excuses often come with relief, like "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with this anymore," but a strategic pause feels a little bit uncomfortable—you still want to do the thing, you just know that it's not the right time or way.

And about losing progress—this is something I still work on—I realize that progress isn't like that sandcastle that gets washed away when you step back; it's more like learning to ride a bike. Even if you don't ride for years, your body still remembers and your brain still keeps what you learned. When I came back to my YouTube channel after a long break, I didn't start from zero; all that knowledge about video editing, scripting, presentation—it was still there. In fact, the break helped me use these skills better because I had clarity about how I wanted to use them.

Operating from intention rather than guilt isn't just a nice saying; it's about being honest with yourself. Ask yourself: are you making this decision from a place of growth or a place of fear? Are you excited about what this pause could bring, or just relieved to escape? And another thing: I try not to forget that my journey doesn't have to look like anyone else's, especially because I have ADHD and Aspergers.

Oftentimes, what works for normals doesn't work for me, you know. Consistency isn't about perfect attendance; it's about actually persistent intention. Sometimes the most strategic thing you can do is take a step back, reassess, and return with a renewed purpose. So the next time you feel yourself pulling away from something you care about, don't immediately label it as quitting.

Ask yourself these three questions, consider the season you are in, and trust that if it truly matters to you, you will find your way back—probably stronger and clearer than before—because you don't actually hate it; you might just need a different way to show up for it.