The Real Reason Change Feels So Hard
It's not a discipline problem. It's not a mindset problem. It's something your body has been carrying for a long time.
Several months ago, I dusted off my Tarot of the Spirit oracle deck and pulled four cards. I told you about the first one — the Death Card — in my last post. It pointed to a major transformation. That I'd need to go into it alone. That I'd face my darkest fears first before new ways of living could accommodate who I was becoming.
But I didn't tell you about the second card.
Card #2 in that pull represented: "What am I not seeing?" And the card that came up was The Hanged Man.
In my oracle deck, The Hanged Man is about surrender. Retreat. Withdrawal into quietude. It says: leave behind the old forms. Let dissolution happen. Still the waters of your consciousness so you can finally hear your own truth. Don't re-enter the world until you've received your answers.
I read it, nodded, and honestly... filed it away. I was too busy building and planning to surrender to, but rather to emerge.
Then, on January 5th, I did a new card-pull. Card #1, representing the query "Where am I in present time," was The Hanged Man. Again. Same card. Different position. This time not highlighting what I wasn't seeing, but telling me where I already was.
A few days later, I got sick. Not a quick cold, but the kind of sick that puts you flat on your back and cancels everything, and then an abdominal infection on top of that. I was ill for weeks.
The universe wasn't being subtle anymore: I was being reminded of the power in pausing.
What Happened When I Was Forced to Stop
Here's what I want to share with you — not about oracle decks, but about what happened inside me when I was forced to stop:
My first reaction wasn't "let me rest and heal." It was fear, hiding as frustration. A tightening in my body that said: I'm falling behind. I'm losing my flow on everything I've been rebuilding. What if I can't get the momentum back?
That reaction had almost nothing to do with being sick. It had everything to do with pain.
Because here's what I've come to understand about our relationship with change — and I think this might shift something for you too:
We don't just resist change because it's unfamiliar. We resist it because somewhere in our history, change hurt us.
Maybe it was a relationship that ended badly. A career move that didn't pan out. A risk you took that left you worse off than before. A time you trusted the process and the process let you down.
Your conscious mind might have moved on. But your body (and your nervous system)? Your body kept the receipt.
Your Nervous System Is Running an Old Movie
So now, every time change shows up (even change you want, even change you know is right), your nervous system pulls up that old file and says: "Remember last time? Let's not do that again."
This is why you can know exactly what you need to do and still feel paralyzed. It's why you've read all the books, done all the journaling, made all the lists and plans to support this shift, and still find yourself circling the same patterns.
It's not a discipline problem. It's not a mindset problem.
It's a pain problem.
Your body linked change with emotional, mental, and/or physical pain, and now it's doing its very best to protect you from experiencing that again. Which, when you think about it, is kind of beautiful. Your system is trying to keep you safe. It's just using an outdated strategy.
Power in the Pause
As for me and The Hanged Man, I'm starting to think the pain of being forced to stop wasn't the obstacle. It was the point. Sometimes change doesn't ask for our permission. Sometimes it just takes us by the ankles and flips us upside down until we see things differently.
I'm still right-side up-ing myself. But the view from here is different. Clearer. I've been doing what I coach my clients to do when pausing is what's on order — journaling, conscious breathing, nature walks, and what I call Raging on the Page-ing. And I am slowly re-emerging with more ideas and creativity in flow; more aligned in my rebuilding, and creating new, bigger, and bolder things. I have more courage than I've ever had, especially in being seen publicly in more and more of my truth.
There really is power in the pause. Even if it feels like I got hit on the back of the head by what I call the Universal 2x4 board in order to slow down (because I had ignored the whispers and quiet taps on the shoulder to retreat), it was what I needed.
What This Means for You
If you've been beating yourself up for not making the change you know you need to make, please take a beat. Give yourself some compassion and remember: there's nothing wrong with you, and it's not your fault. Your body is doing exactly what it was designed to do. It just needs a different kind of support than willpower.
I've been building something that brings together everything I've been exploring about our relationship with change: the resistance, the pain, the hope, what's underneath it, and what actually becomes possible when we stop fighting change and start moving with it. It's called The Anatomy of Change, and it's happening soon.
Stay tuned — I'll be sharing all the details very soon. But if any of this is landing in a way that feels personal, know that this one's for you.