As I walked from the train today, I asked myself “What can I do to achieve my goals today?”

The answer is nothing.

But that’s not a bad answer.

We always want to do something. When I was trying to lose weight before, I’d try to exercise a lot, without changing my diet. When I tried to save money, I’d buy things which I thought would finally solve all my problems and mean I wouldn’t have to buy any more things.

I’ll give you two guesses how both of those worked out.

So today I decided I will do nothing to further my goals. I feel like that should be nothing with a capital N, more Nothing. I will not buy something I don’t need (as this has been a stressful week and that’s a normal outlet) and I will not go eat something unhealthy (another normal outlet). Instead I will do Nothing. I will work hard at my job, rejoice in using my iPad (which I’m typing this on, by the by) and then go home and relax.

Actually I’ll go out for drinks with a friend whom I had mixed up dates with. But really, nothing spectacular.

I always want to do something to solve my problems. Action is, sometimes, easier than inaction. It feels better. But in terms of my goals, right now, inaction is the best choice.

I stepped on the scale for the first time in a while today, and I didn’t like the numbers I saw. They were a high for me, and gave my confidence for the day an immediate hit. I couldn’t stop thinking about how these were more pounds I had to lose, more things to do, how I had to start giving up the foods I loved and devoting more of my time to grueling exercise and stern concentration.

Then I stopped for a moment and thought to myself “Wait, what?”

I was talking about reorienting my entire life to deal with my weight. And while I’m all for single-tasking, this was bordering on the obsessive, the way I was thinking about it. Why did I want to do that? Why was it so important to me to give up so many other things in my life, things I love and cherish, to focus on this?

Simply put, I was defining myself by my weight. I was saying to myself that those numbers were my way of either being proud or ashamed of myself. If they were X, I would be ashamed. If they were X-70, I’d be proud. (It’s not really that high, that’s just where science says my ideal weight would be). I was quickly putting the entirety of my life’s value behind those numbers.

But this kind of obsession is the kind of thing I’ve encountered a lot of as I’ve entered my twenties. Sometimes it’s marks, sometimes my employment status, sometimes my relationship status. And while I usually think these aren’t mutually exclusive, it’s usually one or the other I’m focusing on at any given time and defining myself by.

This is where I run into trouble, though. Because I’m not defined by the numbers on a scale, or the size of my paycheque, or what Facebook may say about my relationship status. I’m not defined by anything but myself, and what I choose to define myself by. It’s an abstract concept, but it’s something that really gelled in my mind today.

And while I’d like to change many of the things I mentioned above, letting any one of them define me is detrimental to my self-esteem and to the many other important aspects of my life that aren’t part of those things. So I’m choosing to define myself by what I try to do. That’s what makes the difference in my life, and in others.

How do you define yourself? Do you think it’s a good thing?