256: Discipline that Works for ADHD Brains

Become the Butler for Future You

I stumbled across a definition of discipline recently that might genuinely change how you think about it — especially if “just be more consistent” has never once worked for your brain.

It comes from behavior expert Chase Hughes, in an interview he gave on the Diary of a CEO podcast. His definition, boiled all the way down: discipline is your ability to prioritize the needs of your future self ahead of your present self. That’s it. No mention of routines, no streaks, no 21-days-or-it-doesn’t-count.

The Dopamine Loop Hiding Inside That Definition

Here’s the part that makes this actually usable for a fish brain: Hughes suggests setting up small situations where past you becomes a source of delight for present you. You do something small today that future you will stumble into and be genuinely happy about. That little hit of surprise and gratitude is its own reward — and it naturally makes you want to do something nice for future you again.

For those of us who tend to look back at our own choices with frustration more often than kindness, this is a real shift. Instead of the usual cycle of regret — why didn’t I remember, why can’t I get this right — you start building a habit of quietly taking care of someone you’ll be tomorrow, and then genuinely thanking her when you get there.

Hughes’ own phrase for it: become a butler for future you.

What This Actually Looks Like

None of these need to be big. Start small — a single, low-effort thing that future you will be delighted to discover.

Set physical cues where you’ll actually need them. I recently started a small morning journaling practice — 15 minutes, coffee, notebook, pen. Except more mornings than not, I’d sit down, get settled, and realize my reading glasses were still across the house, wherever I’d left them the night before while half-watching TV. Cue the scramble, and half my 15 minutes gone before I even started. So now, before bed, I carry the glasses over to where I’ll be journaling the next morning. On the mornings I remember, walking in and seeing them already there is a genuinely delightful little surprise — because with a memory that resets roughly every eight seconds, I’ve usually completely forgotten I did it.

Stage what you’ll need for tomorrow’s errands, today. If returns are a recurring struggle — arriving without the item, without the receipt, without your card, without the QR code on your phone — think about what future you will actually need in hand and put it somewhere you can’t miss it. (I’ve started leaving my purse in the car since I park in a garage — not a universal recommendation if your car isn’t somewhere secure, but it’s solved my particular problem.)

Turn a phone alarm into a note to your future self. If you’re lying in bed thinking I need to remember to make that call tomorrow, don’t just hope you’ll remember. Open your alarms app right then, set a time that works, and label it clearly — “make the call” if you’ll remember what that means, or “call the vet” if you won’t. If you happen to remember before the alarm goes off, that’s fine too — you get to laugh at the reminder and realize you already beat it to the punch.

Hide a little “found money” moment for a future season. Hughes’ own example: tuck a $20 bill into the pocket of a winter coat right as the season ends, so that next winter, pulling it back out feels like a genuine surprise.

No Routine Required — Which Is the Whole Point

Notice what’s missing from every one of these examples: the words routine, consistency, streak, every day. This isn’t advice that falls apart the moment you skip a night. If you don’t have a rigid morning routine to begin with (and if you’re the kind of person this podcast is for, you probably don’t), then forgetting to set a cue one evening doesn’t derail anything — there’s no fixed system to break. It just means tomorrow’s version of that task is a little less delightful than it could’ve been. No fail state, just missed opportunities you can pick back up anytime.

A few more small, no-pressure ways to try this: pre-load and start the dishwasher at night so future you walks into an empty one, ready for today’s dishes. Leave a sticky note somewhere that just asks, have you done anything nice for future you lately? Even the small step of moving your planner to wherever you’ll actually see it first thing — next to the coffee pot, next to your journal — counts as a genuine gift to tomorrow.

Try It Tonight

Pick one small thing tonight that future you will be happy to find tomorrow. Don’t overthink it — the whole appeal here is that it doesn’t need a system behind it. Just one kind, quiet handoff from today’s you to tomorrow’s you.

And when tomorrow comes and you notice it, take the second to actually feel it — that’s the dopamine loop doing exactly what it’s supposed to do, and it’s what will make you want to do it again.

Let me know how it goes. Until next time, continue to choose joy.