Interesting data point. I too have felt a strange fear of actually overcoming akrasia. However, I interpret it as a fear of inconsistency—like being afraid of waking up one day as a completely different person (albeit a better one by my own standards), and not being able to explain what happened. I try to tell myself that the part of myself that is so afraid is being silly: I don’t need to fear winning too quickly, because that just doesn’t happen, and if it did I should only be grateful—and if someone were to explicitly ask how the radical discontinuity came about, I could simply express my honest ignorance.
Strange that we would seem to describe similar experiences (fear of the outcome marked “Success” actually occurring), but that you should count it as evidence that akrasia is an excuse, whereas I don’t. For myself, it still seems (more than ever, really) that I do want to change—for I have changed, however slowly. I don’t play games anymore, and count myself happier for it.
Interesting data point. I too have felt a strange fear of actually overcoming akrasia. However, I interpret it as a fear of inconsistency—like being afraid of waking up one day as a completely different person (albeit a better one by my own standards), and not being able to explain what happened. I try to tell myself that the part of myself that is so afraid is being silly: I don’t need to fear winning too quickly, because that just doesn’t happen, and if it did I should only be grateful—and if someone were to explicitly ask how the radical discontinuity came about, I could simply express my honest ignorance.
Strange that we would seem to describe similar experiences (fear of the outcome marked “Success” actually occurring), but that you should count it as evidence that akrasia is an excuse, whereas I don’t. For myself, it still seems (more than ever, really) that I do want to change—for I have changed, however slowly. I don’t play games anymore, and count myself happier for it.