THE THOUGHT

Growing up, I had a rule: if I started a film, I had to finish it. Dull, tangled, utterly terrible—I stayed. To this day, I’ve only walked out on two, which says more about their awfulness than my resolve. Looking back, that rule? Utter nonsense.

Maybe I hoped the ending would stitch beauty into the mess, but leaving felt like erasing the hours already spent.

Think of gym memberships we keep for their ghostly “maybe,” projects we pursue though our hearts have fled, or relationships we carry like stones. The weight of what’s been spent keeps us tethered, whispering that quitting wastes what’s gone.

Why endure what no longer brings joy? Why cling to sinking ships, even as the wide-open future calls?

THE DIVE

The Weight of What’s Lost

The Sunk Cost Fallacy reveals our tendency to cling to past investments, even when walking away would be wiser. Psychologically, this stems from loss aversion—our discomfort with loss often outweighs the potential pleasure of gain. Research by Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky highlights how we overweight past sacrifices, creating emotional barriers to change.

Why does this bias sink its hooks into us so deeply? Several factors come into play:

• Cultural Reinforcement: Society glorifies persistence, equating quitting with failure. Phrases like “never give up” present endurance as virtue, strengthening the idea that letting go is weak.

• Avoiding Regret: Emotionally, we’re wired to avoid the regret that might accompany recognizing wasted effort. Admitting a mistake feels harder than pushing forward, even when logic says otherwise.

Hal Arkes and Catherine Blumer’s experiments on the sunk cost effect reveal just how pervasive this thinking is. For instance, participants continued to support failing endeavors, unable to reconcile walking away with the time and resources they had already invested.

This bias doesn’t just play on emotions—it warps how we assign value. We often equate sacrifice with worth, attaching meaning to effort simply because it was hard. This creates a loop: the more we invest, the harder it feels to walk away.

Recognizing this trap helps us prioritize logic over emotional ties to the past. Walking away isn’t failure—it’s clarity and courage, opening the door to new opportunities.

THE PRACTICE

Listening to What Matters Now

Here’s a simple experiment to test the pull of sunk costs in your life. Start by choosing one thing you’ve been holding onto. It could be a half-read book, a hobby that lost its spark, a social event you're dreading but feel obligated to attend, or even a subscription you’re reluctant to cancel. Ask yourself a question, “If I started fresh today, knowing what I know now, would I choose this?”

If the honest answer is no, consider what it might feel like to step away. Pause, notice any discomfort. Perhaps a voice will argue, reminding you of the time, money, or energy you’ve spent so far. That’s normal. But instead of shutting it out, ask another question, “Is staying a step towards the life I want?” You’re not turning away from what was; you’re turning toward what could be.

Try this with small choices first. Skip the book you’re not enjoying, or stay home from an event if it feels like merely checking a box. Notice if relief and lightness follow. Over time, this practice helps train your mind to focus on what matters now, rather than what mattered yesterday.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll see those costly anchors in a different light—not as mistakes or failures to redeem, but as lessons that brought you here. Remember, letting go isn’t losing; it’s opening space. The ship may sink, but the ocean is vast. You’re allowed to swim toward what calls you.