Why Do We Quit Before the Finish Line?

I can already see it so clearly in my mind—the finished project, the final result, the sense of accomplishment. I feel it in my body, the rush of excitement, the urgency, the need to start right now.

Nothing else matters.

I can’t stop thinking about it, obsessing over every detail, planning the perfect execution. I throw myself in headfirst—heart first—because when something excites me, I don’t do it halfway. I go all in.

Days pass, maybe weeks. I hyperfocus so intensely that I forget to eat, stay up too late, and ignore everything else. My mind is buzzing constantly. I feel alive, like I’ve finally found my purpose.

This time, it will be different.

This time, I will finish.

And then, like a switch flipping in my brain, I won’t.

When the Spark Disappears

At first, I try to ignore it.

That creeping feeling of resistance. The hesitation. The way my brain starts finding excuses not to continue.

The passion that once pulled me forward so effortlessly is suddenly… gone.

I try to push through. I tell myself to just finish it, to do one more step, to not give up this time. But every part of me resists, like trying to force myself to move through quicksand.

I stare at the project that once set my soul on fire, and now it feels like a weight pressing down on my chest. I want to care—I should care—but I don’t.

And the worst part? I don’t know why.

So, I stop.

And for a moment, there’s relief.

The weight lifts. I don’t have to force myself anymore. I can breathe again.

But then, the guilt creeps in.

The Guilt That Follows

The project lingers in the background, unfinished, untouched.

I tell myself I’ll come back to it later. But I never do.

Instead, the thoughts begin:

“Why do I always do this?”

“Why can’t I just finish something for once?”

“How much time and money have I wasted—again?”

The shame settles deep in my chest. I think about all the other unfinished projects scattered across my life. I think about what this means—about what I must be.

Lazy.

Undisciplined.

A failure.

Because that’s what we’re told, right? If we don’t finish something, we’ve failed. If we quit, we’re weak. If we can’t sustain motivation, it must be because we don’t really care.

But that’s not true, is it?

Because I cared with everything in me.

I poured my soul into this.

And yet, here I am, unable to cross the finish line.

For so long, I thought this was a flaw.

Until I realised this isn’t a personal failing. It’s our neurology.

Why Does This Happen?

It took me a long time to understand this cycle—to see it for what it is instead of blaming myself.

Motivation isn’t about willpower. It’s about dopamine, executive function, energy regulation, and the way our brains process effort and reward. Once I understood that, I could finally let go of the guilt.

Dopamine & The Immediate vs. Future Reward Struggle

Dopamine fuels motivation. It’s what tells the brain, This is important—keep going!

For neurotypicals, dopamine builds over time as they work toward a long-term goal.

For us? It spikes in the beginning, then crashes hard.

We thrive on instant rewards. The rush of a new project gives us the dopamine boost we need to hyperfocus. But once the novelty fades, our brain can’t sustain that motivation. (Volkow et al., 2009)

If the reward is too far away, the brain sees no reason to continue. We want to finish, but our brain literally doesn’t feel the urgency anymore. (Castellanos & Tannock, 2002)

We resist the slow build-up to a reward. If we can’t see the impact of our efforts right now, our brain disconnects—even if we still care about the outcome.

This explains why we jump from idea to idea, struggle with long-term projects, and lose interest the moment something requires slow, sustained effort before the reward is visible.

Autistic Hyperfocus & Burnout

For many of us, our focus is intense. When we love something, we go all in.

We burn through energy reserves too fast. We forget to eat, rest, or even pause because we’re in it. And then, suddenly, we hit a wall. (Raymaker et al., 2020)

When burnout sets in, we physically can’t engage anymore. This isn’t a lack of motivation—it’s a neurological shutdown.

This is why we go from obsession to avoidance. The mental exhaustion is overwhelming, so we disconnect.

PDA & Demand Avoidance

For those of us with Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), the moment something starts feeling like an obligation, even if it’s self-imposed, we reject it.

The task shifts from “something I want to do” → “something I have to do.”

That pressure triggers intense internal resistance, making it feel impossible to continue. (O’Nions et al., 2016)

This can happen even when we genuinely care about the project.

Executive Dysfunction & Overwhelm

Knowing what to do isn’t enough—our brains struggle to start or continue tasks.

The bigger the task, the harder it is to begin. Without clear, structured steps, the brain feels lost.

If a project reaches a phase that feels “too big” or “too hard,” the brain shuts down completely.(Brown, 2017)

This is why tasks often get abandoned at critical points—especially in the final stages where motivation must be sustained without immediate feedback.

What If Unfinished Doesn’t Mean Failed?

We’re told that quitting is bad. That stopping before the end means we wasted our time.

But what if that’s not true?

What if unfinished means explored?

What if quitting isn’t about failure, but about energy cycles?

Every project I abandoned gave me something—knowledge, excitement, growth. Every time I hyperfocused on something new, I was alive.

And maybe that matters more than finishing just for the sake of finishing.

How I Work With My Brain Instead of Against It

• Break projects into dopamine-friendly steps. Smaller wins keep motivation alive.

• Plan for burnout. If I know I’ll crash, I build in rest time. If I still crash, I accept it and take the time I need to recover.

• Reframe unfinished as exploration. I didn’t waste my time—I gained something from it.

• Find ways to outsource the hardest parts. If finishing is the struggle, I let someone help with the final steps.

• Focus on what was achieved, not what wasn’t. Even if I didn’t finish, I created something that didn’t exist before.

Because the goal isn’t to force myself to finish everything.

The goal is to understand myself.

To stop carrying shame for something that isn’t a personal failure—it’s just how my brain works.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.