Why Do I Persist When It’s Not Working?
Intermittent Reinforcement Explained
Chapter 1- Cold Open
The numbers are sitting right there on the screen.
Downloads.
Average listen duration.
Click-through rate.
I look at them longer and more often than I need to.
The upward momentum is barely visible. I’ve spent weeks putting something real out into the world, yet the graphs still almost mirror Florida’s flat terrain.
My brain reaches its conclusion quickly:
No one’s listening. This isn’t going anywhere. Why am I still doing this?
I sit with that for a second. Let it be as ugly as it wants to be.
And then — quieter, but not gone — there’s another voice.
It isn’t cheerful. It doesn’t say, “You’ve got this!”
It’s just…stubborn.
Keep going.
That’s it. That’s all it says. Not an argument. Not a pep talk. Just two words, scratching at the back of my skull.
And for reasons I don’t fully understand, I keep listening to that voice instead of the numbers.
Chapter 2- Introduction
Hey, it’s Evet DeCota.
That stubborn little voice telling me to keep going raises a question I suspect many of us have asked ourselves:
When something isn’t giving us the results we hoped for, how do we know whether continuing is an act of perseverance or evidence that we’re having trouble letting go?
Because persistence is complicated.
We tend to speak about persistence as though it’s always evidence of strength.
Keep showing up. Don’t quit before the breakthrough. Success might be waiting for you right around the corner.
And that advice may protect us from abandoning something during the slow, unglamorous middle.
But persistence also has another side.
Sometimes we remain committed to something because it matters deeply to us.
Or maybe we remain because every once in a while, something happens that renews our hope just enough to keep us invested.
A struggling relationship suddenly gives us one wonderful weekend.
A job that regularly drains us brings an unexpected compliment from a supervisor.
Or a podcast with a nearly flat analytics graph receives a message from someone who says, “I needed to hear this.”
That moment may be sincere and meaningful. It may also affect our behavior in ways we don’t consciously recognize.
Psychology calls the broader pattern intermittent reinforcement.
In B.F. Skinner’s framework, this particular version resembles a variable-ratio schedule of reinforcement: the reward comes after an unpredictable number of attempts rather than after every attempt. Because we never know which attempt might pay off, we may continue the behavior far longer than we would if the outcome were predictable.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean continuing is a mistake.
It leaves us with a harder question: How do we tell the difference between persistence rooted in meaning and persistence sustained by the hope of receiving one more reward?
In this episode, we’ll look at why unpredictable moments of encouragement can become so powerful, how outside responses can influence something we originally chose because it mattered to us or we believed it might help someone else, and what we might ask ourselves when the numbers say stop, but something inside us continues to say:
Keep going.
Chapter 3- When Meaning Became Measurable
I started this podcast because I wanted to reach more people than I could ever reach coaching one at a time.
After almost forty years of working closely with the public, studying psychology, and becoming a life coach, I felt I had something valuable to contribute.
I could see connections among the stories people told me, the psychology I was studying, and the patterns so many of us experience. I also saw how the right coaching questions could help someone look at those patterns differently.
I believed those connections could help people.
I also had ambition for the podcast. I hoped it would grow.
I wanted it to stand apart in two very crowded spaces—podcasting and coaching—by combining psychological research with the kind of human understanding that can only come from decades of listening closely to people and noticing what they reveal about themselves.
And yes, I hoped that one day the podcast might be picked up by a company willing to pay me to continue creating it and bring it to an even larger audience.
That was part of the dream, too.
I wasn’t expecting instant success, not really. I was hoping for evidence that the podcast was moving toward something.
An expanding audience. More engagement. A growing body of work that people found useful and wanted to share.
Because podcasting was new to me, I asked friends and clients for honest feedback.
Some took notes while they listened and told me which ideas stayed with them, how the episodes made them reflect, and where they wanted to hear more.
Much of that feedback was incredibly encouraging.
They weren’t simply telling me, “Good job.” They were engaging with the ideas and showing me that something I said had made them pause or recognize something in themselves.
I took the feedback seriously because I wanted to learn.
When I first started, my focus was primarily on what I could offer.
But once I began releasing episodes, I also had to think about how anyone would find them and what would make someone choose to listen.
That’s when even more advice started pouring in.
Post more often, be consistent. Pick a lane.
Turn every episode into multiple pieces of content. Strengthen the hook.
Sound less like you’re reading. Get better equipment. Compress the audio.
Study what performs well, and then do more of that.
I listened. I tried. I implemented many of the suggested changes.
I experimented with social media posts, promotional videos, reels, titles, and artwork. I thought carefully about which few words might persuade someone to stop scrolling long enough to listen.
Most of the advice was useful. It helped me become clearer and more intentional about how I presented the podcast.
But it also changed what I was paying attention to.
Something that began as a place to explore why we behave the way we do, and how we find our way back to our authentic selves, became something I could measure.
Downloads. Views. Clicks. Listening time. Subscribers.
And I’ve realized that once something can be measured, it becomes very easy to let the measurement decide what it’s worth.
Over the past few months, I’ve begun questioning whether all the time and effort I’ve invested are paying off. And whenever I’ve come close to seriously doubting it, I’ve heard or read something unexpected.
Someone tells me they listened to an episode more than once because there was so much in it, they wanted to absorb.
Someone else tells me that a particular perspective stayed with them.
Occasionally, a complete stranger comments that they recognized a part of their own life in something I said.
Those responses never arrive on a schedule. I can’t predict which episode will reach someone or when they will decide to tell me about it.
Then my friend’s kid told me about something that happened while he was avoiding a task he needed to complete.
Instead of doing it, he decided to clean his room. While he was cleaning, he listened to my episode about procrastination.
At one point, I described the exact thing he was doing: completing a different, less important task to avoid the discomfort of beginning the necessary one.
He laughed when he recognized himself.
Then he stopped cleaning and listened to the rest of the episode.
When it ended, he went to his computer and took the first action required to begin the task he had been avoiding. He had broken through the resistance fueling his procrastination.
I was stoked to hear that.
Something I had written and recorded did exactly what I hoped it could do. It helped someone recognize a pattern and take action.
Suddenly, my mostly flat graph mattered a little less.
His response didn’t erase my doubt, but it definitely interrupted it.
It gave me just enough evidence to think: Maybe the work is reaching people in ways the numbers can’t show me.
So I kept going.
For a while, I called that trusting my instincts.
But I’d learned enough psychology to know that instinct might not be the entire explanation.
Sometimes, the thing that keeps us invested isn’t a steady reward, but the possibility that another reward might be coming.
Chapter 4- The Problem with “Maybe”
That possibility — that another reward might be coming — is exactly what Skinner’s research speaks to. The most relevant part is what happens when rewards become scarce or appear to stop altogether.
A behavior that’s rewarded consistently is often easier to abandon once the reward disappears. The change is clear.
Something that used to happen every time is no longer happening.
But when reinforcement has always been inconsistent, its absence doesn’t give us the same clarity.
We’re already accustomed to waiting.
One attempt without a reward doesn’t mean anything. Neither do five attempts, necessarily, because we never knew how long the wait would be in the first place.
The absence of a reward can’t tell us whether it’s over or whether it simply hasn’t happened again yet.
That uncertainty is what makes the behavior so resistant to what psychologists call the partial reinforcement extinctioneffect: behaviors reinforced unpredictably are harder to let go of than behaviors reinforced every time.
Extinction is simply the term for what happens when a previously reinforced behavior gradually fades, and partial reinforcement is what slows that fading down.
A definite no gives us information. Maybe keeps the story open.
Maybe can appear anywhere we’re waiting for an outcome.
We may wonder whether a relationship is slowly improving or whether one good experience has temporarily renewed our hope. We may question whether a career opportunity is developing behind the scenes or if we’re holding on because no one has given us a definitive answer.
When the outcome remains uncertain, almost any encouraging sign can become a reason to wait a little longer.
I can interpret several weeks of nearly flat analytics in two completely different ways.
I can see evidence that the podcast isn’t growing.
Or I can tell myself that growth takes time and the right audience hasn’t found it yet.
Then a meaningful response arrives, and “maybe” becomes powerful again.
Hope returns—but not certainty.
And that’s where persistence becomes difficult to evaluate. Continuing can be an act of patience and commitment. It can also be a way of postponing a truth we don’t want to confront.
The fact that we’re still willing to try doesn’t prove that continuing is wise.
But the absence of immediate success doesn’t prove that stopping is wise, either.
Intermittent reinforcement can help explain why I continue the behavior. It can’t tell me whether the behavior is still aligned with what I value.
For that, I have to look beyond the reward and ask what was motivating me before it arrived.
Chapter 5— What Am I Really Working For?
Psychologists Edward Deci and Richard Ryan developed Self-Determination Theory (SDT) to explain not just what motivates us, but also the quality of that motivation—if it comes from inside us or from something outside us.
I started this podcast because I believed I could help people. I also enjoy the work itself— finding the connections, writing about them, and translating what I learn into something someone can use. That’s intrinsic motivation. It comes from within.
But I also wanted the podcast to grow. I wanted people to recognize its value, and yes, I hoped it might lead to a paid opportunity someday. That’s extrinsic motivation.
Both can be true at the same time. Someone can find genuine purpose in their work and still want the promotion.
A person can exercise because it makes them feel strong and still enjoy being told they look good.
Someone can create something because the process itself is satisfying and still hope people will buy it.
SDT says healthy motivation rests on three needs: autonomy — choosing what we do rather than being controlled by outside pressure. Competence — feeling like our efforts are actually landing. And relatedness — feeling connected to other people through what we do.
This podcast feeds my autonomy because I choose what it’s about. It feeds my competence when someone tells me something I said stayed with them. And it feeds relatedness when a listener recognizes their own life in an episode.
The trouble starts when an outside response becomes the only evidence that the work is worthwhile. Certain external rewards — especially the ones that feel expected or controlling — can actually weaken an interest that used to come from within. What we chose starts to become something we perform to get the reward.
But not every outside response has that effect.
A listener’s message is an external reward, and it can still feed competence and relatedness at the same time — still reconnect me to why I’m doing this.
I can feel that connection and still want the validation of a rising graph.
I care about helping people. I enjoy making this podcast. I also want recognition, a bigger audience, and some financial reward for it.
So maybe the more useful question isn’t whether my motivation is intrinsic or extrinsic.
Maybe it’s: which one is making the decision right now?
Chapter 6— Persistence Isn’t the Same as Repetition
The question sounds simple until I try to answer it honestly.
My motivations are usually mixed, so I start with: Am I committed to the purpose, or have I become attached to one particular outcome?
That one alone takes some sitting with.
Then a few more, quieter but just as pointed: If the next effort went unnoticed, would there still be value in making it? What part of this matters to me independently of the response I receive?
And then the one that’s harder to answer than it sounds: What would I change if I weren’t waiting for the next reward to reassure me?
Those questions don’t guarantee a clear answer, but they shift my attention away from waiting for reassurance and hand some of the decision back to me.
Author James Clear recently wrote in his 3-2-1 newsletter: “Winning isn’t what makes you feel good. Growth is what makes you feel good.”
I needed to hear that during my moments of doubt and hesitation because the distinction matters.
Winning depends on a particular outcome. The numbers rise. The audience expands. The opportunities arrive.
Growth can happen even when none of that has.
I may be becoming a stronger writer, a clearer communicator, and a better researcher.
I may be learning which advice is useful and which advice is pulling me away from what I’m actually trying to create.
Growth doesn’t require me to pretend that the outcome no longer matters. I still want the podcast to succeed.
But if winning is the only result I’m willing to count, I might miss what the work is already producing in me.
And persistence doesn’t mean repeating the same approach forever. We can stay committed to a goal while changing the strategy — the pace, the amount of energy we’re investing, if we ask for help, and what “meaningful progress” even looks like.
In a career, that might mean pursuing the same purpose through a different role.
In a relationship, it might mean staying open to repair without accepting the same harmful pattern again.
With a personal goal, it might mean adjusting the plan instead of treating one failed attempt as proof we’re incapable.
Changing direction isn’t always giving up. Sometimes, it means we’re finally paying attention.
I can believe in the purpose of the podcast without believing that every part of my current approach is working.
Maybe the healthiest form of persistence isn’t blind continuation or abruptly walking away.
Maybe it’s staying connected to the purpose while remaining willing to change the plan.
Chapter 7- Closing
When I look at the analytics now, the graph hasn’t magically changed.
But the question has.
Instead of asking, Why am I still doing this?
I can ask, Am I still choosing this?
For now, the answer is yes.
Not because I’ve been promised that the next episode will be the one that changes everything. Not because I believe persistence always leads to success.
I’m choosing it because I still have something to say. I’m still curious about the ideas I explore, and I still believe the work has the potential to help people.
There may come a time when my answer is different. If that happens, stopping won’t necessarily mean I failed or gave up too soon. It may mean I paid attention long enough to recognize that the work, or my relationship with it, had changed.
Maybe the thing you’re questioning is a relationship, a career, a personal goal, or a future you’ve invested years imagining.
The question isn’t simply how much longer we can hold on.
It’s whether we’re still consciously choosing this, or just waiting for the next reward to decide for us.
That stubborn voice in our head still says:
Keep going.
But this time, it’s not just obedience.
This time, the answer is ours:
Yes. For now. By choice.
I’m Evet DeCota. If this episode resonated with you and you’d like to connect with me, all of my information is in this episode’s notes.
Thank you for listening and have a great day.
