Failing to Do the Thing You Said You Would

Let’s say you told yourself you’d go for a swim on Tuesday. You even looked at the timetable, packed your bag, visualised the lane you’d be in. Tuesday comes. No swim.

And now you’re sat there wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

Here’s the thing: not doing something you planned can feel like a failure. But not all plans are equal. And not all failures are real.

This is where it gets messy—where self-worth, courage, and cognitive dissonance start pulling in different directions.

You feel disappointed in yourself, but you’re not even sure if it’s fair. You ask: am I lazy? Am I flaky? Or did I just set myself up with a plan I didn’t think through?

That difference matters.

If you made the decision last week, thought it through, gave it weight—then yeah, skipping it comes with a bit more friction. That’s not just a missed task. That’s a crack in the trust between you and… well, you.

But if you woke up that morning and suddenly thought, I should go swimming, and didn’t? That’s not a broken promise. That’s just a passing thought that didn’t stick.

Not every idea needs to become a standard.

We build these quiet rules in our heads. The second we think something, we believe we’ve committed to it. Like saying maybe means definitely. Like should equals must.
It doesn’t.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit: “That wasn’t a real plan. That was just a hope I had in a tired moment.”

Here’s how you know the difference:

Did you write it down?
Did you carve out time for it?
Did you really choose it—or did it just float into your head while scrolling or showering or watching someone else do it on YouTube?

You’re allowed to have passing thoughts.
You’re allowed to want things one day and feel differently the next.
That’s not weakness. That’s being human.

But the damage happens when you treat every maybe like a must, and every missed step like a character flaw.

That’s where shame creeps in. That’s where self-worth starts to bleed out.

So slow down.

Notice when a plan is real, and when it’s just noise.
Choose your commitments carefully, and then honour them—not out of guilt, but out of respect for yourself.

And when you don’t follow through?
Don’t spiral.
Don’t make it mean more than it should.
Just look at it.
Learn from it.
Adjust.

You’re not broken. You’re just figuring out what matters.

That’s not failure. That’s growth.