Language, trends, and why we name things
The 2020s have been hallmarked with a new wave of language used to describe feelings, behaviours, and coping mechanisms that have always existed. Terms like “main character energy,” “soft life,” and “locking in” have helped the current generation of young people give shape to emotions that might otherwise feel vague or overwhelming. Giving names to these sensations can give us a sense of comfort, an implied sense of control (Falling Upwards for example!)
“Locking in” is one of the most prominent examples and the focus of this article. A phrase that once implied focus and commitment has quickly become shorthand for self-discipline at all costs. To lock in now means to get serious, to grind, to cut distractions and, implicitly, to accept that anything less is failure.
But why does this idea feel so necessary right now?
What “locking in” promises & where it comes from
At its core, “locking in” is a response to discomfort. It feeds on a collective dissatisfaction with life as it currently is. The rising cost of living, shrinking job opportunities, constant comparison, and the pressure to be exceptional in increasingly narrow ways would lead anyone to the same conclusion: you are not doing enough.
Capitalism thrives on this feeling. When stability feels out of reach, productivity becomes a moral virtue. Being busy is framed as being worthy. It ties our “busyness” to our intrinsic value. Grind culture doesn’t just encourage effort, it demands visible suffering as proof of ambition.
The promise of locking in is simple and seductive: if you sacrifice enough, if you stay focused long enough, if you deny yourself long enough, then eventually it will pay off. Wealth, fame, power? The reward is often left deliberately vague, but it’s always just out of reach.
And that ambiguity is part of the trap.
Discipline, shame, and burnout
I’m not immune to this way of thinking. I often catch myself telling myself to “lock in,” usually during moments of frustration or self-doubt (teeth grinding on max!)
But when I fall back into old patterns, the language turns on me. Discipline becomes shame. A lack of consistency feels like a personal failure rather than a human one. That shame then feeds the very behaviours I was trying to escape, until I reach a breaking point and decide, once again, that it’s time to lock in.
Rinse. Repeat.
Not enough people acknowledge just how emotionally exhausting this cycle is. Locking in promises progress, but often delivers guilt. Instead of creating sustainable change, it can trap you in a loop where intensity replaces patience and self-criticism masquerades as motivation.
Hustle culture and the myth of the guaranteed outcome
Hustle and grind culture aren’t new ideas. The belief that effort leads to reward is deeply embedded in how we understand success. And to be clear, effort matters. Consistency builds skill, confidence, and a sense of self-respect.
But effort is not a guarantee.
The idea of a pure meritocracy; that the most disciplined always rise is unfortunately more myth than reality. Systems are uneven, opportunities are unequal, and outcomes are often influenced by factors well beyond individual control. Consistency will give you something, but it may not give you what you imagined.
This is where the promise of locking in becomes dangerous. When ambition is framed solely in terms of financial gain or social mobility, the internal rewards are dismissed. Progress that isn’t visible, monetised, or validated by others starts to feel meaningless even when it isn’t.
A cautionary tale: ambition without balance
I was partly inspired to write this piece after a recent viewing of Marty Supreme, a film set in 19050s post-war America, a time obsessed with the idea of the self-made man and the promise of the American Dream. The story follows Marty Mauser, a gifted table tennis player determined to become the best in the world and elevate the sport in the United States.
Marty’s ambition is undeniable, and, in many ways, admirable. But his pursuit is ruthless. He betrays family, exploits relationships, and justifies increasingly destructive choices in the name of his goal. The people closest to him suffer most, all while he chases an ideal that remains frustratingly undefined.
What struck me wasn’t just what Marty did to others, but what he failed to see. The things he was striving for recognition, meaning, and validation were already present in his life. His ambition didn’t sharpen his vision; it narrowed it.
The film plays less like a success story and more like a warning: ambition without balance doesn’t just cost you rest, it costs you perspective.
Closing: what are you really locking in for?
So the real question isn’t whether ambition is good or bad. Hunger can be a gift. Many of us could benefit from caring more deeply about something, from applying ourselves with intention.
The question is: what are you becoming in the process?
Living for yourself isn’t inherently selfish. But if your version of locking in leaves you isolated, ashamed, or indifferent to the people around you, it’s worth reconsidering what success actually means. Balance isn’t complacency… it’s sustainability.
If locking in means making a promise to yourself to show up consistently, to grow at your own pace, and to remain connected to what matters, then it can be powerful. But if it only serves as another way to measure your worth against an impossible standard, then maybe it’s not focus you need… it’s compassion.
