Meaningful change never comes without loss

On thoughtfulness, grit, and moving carefully through self-sabotage

The Veil (1947), Helen Lundeberg

In my first article, I wrote about being cornered by my inner critic. This sequel describes how I’m cultivating and nurturing the space for change.

“Change” is easy when it aligns with our established idea of who we hope to be, but that’s not change - it’s a continuation of what you already are

self-sabotage is everywhere and often invisible

Self-sabotage has paralysed my ability to write. This must be the fifteenth version of this letter I’ve written - perfectionism suffocated progress with endless overhauls. The dance of wanting to finish and stumbling back to square one became maddening.

There was no obvious issue: Am I not interested in writing? Is this topic awful? Was this a stupid goal? Why are you bothering? I was setting traps to keep myself from finishing, and my inner saboteur was using new tactics to kill my goal.

I’ve found pinpointing self-sabotage tricky. Sometimes it’s invisible, and anything we do or think could be to blame. If your habits, priorities or self-talk are in the way of your goals, it could be a similar problem to mine. I’ve used all sorts of distractions to avoid the discomfort of progress. Work busyness, hobbies I didn’t believe in, exercise, and flat-out delusion (“your closest friends will think you’re lame and use this against you”).

we are wired for sameness, not happiness

The threat of change drives all self-sabotage. We are not wired for happiness but for stability and comfort. Anything outside our comfort zone appears as a threat until we become more familiar with it. Of the 86 billion neurons in our heads, only a few are responsible for adapting to change.

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change” - Mary Shelley

The more significant the change, the more we fear ruin - and the more resistance we create. Our brains slow us down before they’re confident it’s safe to get attached to a new thing. Self-sabotage binds us to the spot, whilst our subconscious repeats: This new vision is different, I’m going to stop you from going there unless you can promise me it’s safe. I’m trying to be compassionate, it’s a scared piece of me after all. We can’t confuse resistance with something ominous, resistance is a sign that the change is big.

change is always defined by the loss underneath

There’s a loss underneath my decision to write. It’s the removal of mental guardrails I’ve had for decades and the slow death of a defence mechanism. It’s scaling a 100ft mind-wall at the edge of what feels like me. For two years I’d keep running into my outer limits. I’d notice something excited me, or a deep truth about what I wanted, and I’d extinguish them: That’s a risk you can’t take, you’re not that person, and here’s a bunch of reasons why. I’d choose self-preservation and the familiar. For me, writing meant allowing the opportunity to fail, play, and make a mess.

The longer I sit in the unknown, the more it feels like a trust fall into newness and less like a paranoid nightmare. I’m stepping out of the familiar mental room of me and into the dim outside space of a different self.

when is change genuine?

“Change” is easy when it aligns with our established idea of who we hope to be, but that’s not change - it’s a continuation of what you already are. Moving to a new country when the stars align, a new job opportunity that makes perfect sense. It might be a change of circumstance or habit, but it’s likely the same you behind the wheel. If it doesn’t feel terrifying, it isn’t change. Change is defined by loss, there can be no change without loss, and our brains hate loss.

ways to nurture change

Protecting the voice of a vision or idea is tough - I’ve been trying to cultivate a new mental space whilst it forms. It has meant speaking this part of myself into existence over and over. I’ve gone to all sorts of lengths. Three separate habits apps, written reminders all over my bedroom (“YOU LIKE WRITING”), a new sleep schedule, more time with specific friends that help me to grow. Change is hard. Symbolically they’re a way I’m respecting my desire for change and giving it oxygen to stretch its limbs in my life.

Reconnecting with my vision has also been crucial - I sit down in the picture of future me that makes me giddy. Where the dream feels strong enough I can short-circuit self-sabotage. Where my vision hasn’t been able to motivate me, I’ve found that the need for change wasn’t that genuine.