You’re driving home after a brutal shift, and your tire blows out. It’s raining. Of course it is. You just spent your last bit of "fun money" on a nice dinner, and now you’re staring at a $200 repair. It feels personal. Like the universe took a look at your schedule and decided to throw a wrench in it just to see you squirm. We’ve all been there—that sinking feeling of fate up against your will, where your plans, your effort, and your sheer desire to have a decent day just don't matter to the powers that be.
It’s frustrating. Honestly, it’s more than frustrating; it’s existential.
Psychologists call this the "internal vs. external locus of control." Julian Rotter, who developed the concept back in the 1950s, basically argued that some people think they’re the captain of the ship, while others feel like they’re just a passenger on a raft in a hurricane. But the truth is usually somewhere in the messy middle. Life isn't a movie where the protagonist always wins because they "want it enough." Sometimes, the engine fails. Sometimes, the person you love leaves. Sometimes, you do everything right and still lose.
The Stoic Reality of Control
Marcus Aurelius was the Emperor of Rome, basically the most powerful man on the planet, and yet his journals—what we now call Meditations—are filled with him complaining about how much life sucks when you can't control people. He had fate up against his will every single day. He dealt with plagues, betrayals, and a son who was, frankly, a bit of a disaster.
The Stoics had this idea: Amor Fati. It means "love of fate." It sounds masochistic, right? Why would you love it when things go wrong? But the point wasn’t to enjoy the pain. It was about accepting that reality is what it is, regardless of your feelings about it. If it’s raining, it’s raining. Getting mad at the clouds doesn’t make you dry; it just makes you wet and angry.
Epictetus, another big name in that world, was born a slave. He literally lived through the ultimate version of having his will suppressed by fate and other people. He taught that our only true power is our "prohairesis"—our ability to choose how we judge what’s happening. You can't control the tire blowing out, but you can control whether you let it ruin your entire week or if you just see it as a boring, expensive task to check off.
When Biology Fights Your Plans
We talk about "willpower" like it’s this infinite battery. It’s not.
There’s this concept called "ego depletion," though modern researchers like Michael Inzlicht have debated exactly how it works. Essentially, your "will" is tied to your physical state. If you’re hungry, tired, or stressed, your ability to fight back against fate—or even just stay disciplined—tumbles. You aren't just fighting the world; you're fighting your own neurochemistry.
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Think about chronic illness. That is the ultimate example of fate up against your will. You want to go for a run, you want to work, you want to play with your kids. Your brain says "Go," and your body says "No." In those moments, the "hustle culture" advice of "just work harder" feels like a slap in the face. It ignores the biological reality of the situation.
- Fact: Stress hormones like cortisol can literally shut down the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain responsible for "will."
- Context: When life hits you hard, you aren't being "weak" if you can't think your way out of it. Your hardware is crashing.
The Myth of the "Self-Made" Success
We love a good underdog story. We love the idea that if you just work hard enough, you can overcome anything. But if we’re being honest, luck plays a massive role in where we end up.
In his book Success and Luck, economist Robert Frank points out that even in highly competitive fields, the difference between the winner and the runners-up is often just a series of fortunate events. Small things. Being in the right room. Meeting the right person at a coffee shop. Having a teacher who saw something in you when you were ten.
When you find your fate up against your will, it’s often because you’re ignoring the "luck" factor in reverse. We take credit for our wins but blame "fate" for our losses. Or worse, we blame ourselves for things that were actually just bad luck. Realizing that the world is chaotic can actually be a relief. It means it’s not always your fault.
Psychological Flexibility: The Way Through
So, what do you do when the wall is too high to climb?
The modern answer is Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Developed by Steven C. Hayes, ACT is all about "psychological flexibility." Instead of trying to smash your head against the wall (your will vs. fate), you learn to pivot.
It’s not about giving up. It’s about "defusion"—stepping back from your thoughts and seeing them for what they are. "I am having the thought that my life is over because I lost my job." That’s different from "My life is over."
The world is going to push back. It’s built that way. Entropy is the natural state of the universe. Things break, plans fail, and people let you down. The "will" isn't a battering ram; it's more like a sail. You can't control the wind, but you can adjust the cloth.
How to Handle the Friction
When you feel that specific grind of fate up against your will, the instinct is to push harder. Sometimes that works. Usually, it just exhausts you.
I remember talking to a friend who spent three years trying to launch a startup. He had the "will." He had the "grind." But the market shifted, a competitor with $50 million in VC funding appeared out of nowhere, and his lead dev quit. It was fate. He could have mortgaged his house to keep fighting, but he didn't. He pivoted. He used the skills he learned to get a high-paying job at a firm he liked.
Was his "will" defeated? Maybe. But his life got better.
Actionable Steps for When the Universe Wins
Don't just sit there and take it, but don't break yourself against a mountain either. Here is how you actually navigate these moments:
Audit the "Uncontrollables" Take a piece of paper. Draw a line down the middle. On one side, write everything about your situation you can actually change (your effort, your response, your next phone call). On the other, write the stuff you can't (the economy, the weather, your boss's personality). Look at the "cannot change" side. Now, consciously decide to stop spending emotional energy there. It’s a sunk cost.
The Five-Year Test When fate messes up your plans, ask yourself: "Will this matter in five years?" If the answer is no, give yourself twenty minutes to be pissed off, then move on. If the answer is yes, then it’s time for a strategy shift, not just a vent session.
Shift from "Why" to "How" Asking "Why is this happening to me?" is a trap. It assumes there's a reason or a justice system to the universe. There usually isn't. Shift to "How do I move from here?" The first question keeps you a victim. The second makes you an agent.
Micro-Wins When big-picture fate is crushing you, reclaim your will in small ways. Clean your room. Go for a walk. Finish one tiny task. It sounds like "self-help" fluff, but it’s actually about re-establishing the neural pathways that remind you that you can affect your environment.
Check Your Narrative Are you telling yourself a story where you're the tragic hero? It’s a tempting story. It makes the pain feel poetic. But it also keeps you stuck in the tragedy. Try telling the story of the same events but from the perspective of a neutral observer. It’s usually much less dramatic and much more manageable.
Life isn't going to stop being difficult. The friction of fate up against your will is basically the definition of being alive. The goal isn't to win every battle against the universe; it's to stay in the game long enough to find the gaps where your will actually makes a difference. Stop fighting the tide and start looking for the current that’s going your way.