It was Sunday, early March. I’d been sitting on the edge of my bed for over half an hour, staring at the wall. I was unbearably hungover, having written myself off that night, a disastrous combination of beer, vodka and anxiety brewing in my stomach. I checked my bank account, a depressing thirty dollars remained, having spent hundreds the night before with payments due later in the week.

Such was my normal at this time. I'd cycled through jobs—uni dropout, construction worker, electrical apprentice, warehouse worker—never lasting more than a few months, living paycheque to paycheque.

After quitting yet another job—a warehouse job that lasted all of a month—I finally admitted something to myself.

I was depressed.

To be clear, my life wasn’t objectively hard. I lived at home with my parents and had a supportive family. However, I had grown up carrying high expectations. An A-Grade student, a talented athlete and a naturally gifted individual, I had heard plenty about my potential and the great future ahead of me. Of course, here I was at 20, constantly injured, broke, a dropout, jobless and utterly directionless. The gap between my potential and my reality weighed on me like a ton of bricks.

I had always told myself I needed to change, and had convinced myself I would for years, an endless cycle of “I’ll start Monday,” then “Next month” and then eventually “In the new year.” I never changed, because deep-down I never thought I really could. It was here that I finally forced myself to confront my mindset for good.

I broke up with my girlfriend, not because I didn’t love her, or because of any flaw between us. The truth was, I had become far too comfortable doing nothing—and I loved it, which was the exact problem. This girl was amazing, and far too good to be dating a lazy failure like me. I vowed I wouldn’t pursue another relationship—or try to win her back—until I was genuinely on a path to becoming a better man. It was the hardest decision of my life, but ultimately the right one.

From there, I wrote out all my flaws, my fears and the type of person I had become. Then I flipped them. Words like “lonely” became “connected.” “Lazy” became “ambitious.” This became my new identity—and the first real step toward change.

Mindset and identity are the building blocks of all self-improvement. Whether consciously or not, we shape ourselves based on who we believe we are. A runner runs to get fitter because they identify as someone who takes care of their physical health. A reader reads personal-growth books because they identify as someone who values learning and improving. It’s in our nature to categorise ourselves—the key is being intentional with it.

A habit will rarely stick without a corresponding shift in identity. For example, someone who identifies as “a fat person trying to lose weight” will find it far easier once they identify as “someone who trains.” It’s a simple but incredibly powerful shift.

Apply these shifts consistently and the results will surprise you. I challenge you to try this: list what you identify with. It can be your values, aspirations or attributes. If you struggle to do this, write down things you are annoyed that you struggle with, or fears of what you don’t want, then reverse them. Then, for the next 7 days, take the time to notice these changes. Before skipping a task, or going out, or making a risky decision, ask yourself: would the person I identify as now do this? Let that guide your decisions. Over time, you’ll realise that self-belief makes action that much easier.

The importance of self-belief and a strong identity cannot be overstated. It’s vital for your own self-improvement journey.

I believe you’re capable of everything you aspire to. The only question is whether you believe it too.

- Nate