Why change feels so hard, and why it still might be right
“Breaking up is hard to do…”
Remember that song? I was singing it this morning for no apparent reason, which is usually how these things start for me. And then I started thinking about how true it really is.
Breaking up is hard to do, but not just with people. Sometimes we have to break up with habits, routines, foods, places, ideas, expectations, and even versions of ourselves we used to be.
I think that is why change is so hard. Not because of the change itself, but because we are leaving something familiar. Kind of like an old pair of jeans that are broken in and comfortable, but no longer fit the body or the season we’re in.
The funny thing is, change can also be exciting because of the newness. A new routine, a new school, a new nutrition plan, a new friend, a new possibility. There can be hope in that. But really, the harder part is letting go of the version of ourselves that knew how to live in the old thing.
Sometimes it is time to move on.
Habits are hard to break. There is a reason books like Atomic Habits and The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People became so popular. We are fascinated by habits because we know they shape us…our days and our lives. However, knowing a habit needs to change and actually changing it are two completely different things.
Maybe habits are relationships.
Even the little habits become relationships. Like maybe we have a relationship with a protein bar we eat every day because it tastes good, feels easy, and has become part of the daily ritual. Never mind that one pesky ingredient may not love us back. We have a relationship with the workout that gives us that high, even if our body is saying, “Not right now.” We have a relationship with the place we go every day, the people we see, and the routines we follow.
So when it is time to change, we are not just changing the thing. We are changing the relationship we had with the thing.
That is what makes it feel like a breakup.
For me, I remember when my original gut issues started and I had to give up things I never thought twice about. Little things. Daily things. Foods I liked. Workouts I loved. At first, it felt ridiculous to grieve something as small as a protein bar or a swimming routine. But it was not really about the protein bar. It was not really about the swim.
It was about realizing I could not keep doing what I had always done and expect my body, or my life, to keep cooperating.
And isn’t that true for so many kinds of change? At some point, that tiny whisper starts saying, “This isn’t working anymore.” It could be our bodies, our kids, our relationships, our routines, our seasons. Something starts nudging us toward change.
Maybe God allows enough discomfort that we finally have to admit the old way is no longer working.
And now I am watching this same idea show up in another area of life. My daughter will be attending a new school next year. We have prayed about this change and taken the steps. But even when something is right, it can still feel hard because change brings all the what-ifs with it.
What if it is harder than we thought? What if she misses what she knew? What if I miss what I knew? What if the old place was comfortable for a reason, and now we are walking into something unknown?
Ah, the anticipation of change. That is what gets us.
I think of it like a waiting room between what was and what will be. And I think that waiting room is where most of us get tempted to run back to what is familiar.
Familiar can feel safer than better, but comfortable does not always mean peaceful. That can be a hard lesson.
But then, eventually, we take one step.
And we realize we did not die. The world did not fall apart. The new thing did not swallow us whole. We took the step, and we are still breathing.
This is why breaking up is hard to do.
Those familiar things hold memories and comfort. They hold versions of ourselves that are easy to return to.
And maybe that is where we have to pause and ask a better question. Is this change stretching me toward the person I want to become, or am I holding on because the old version of me feels easier to understand or more comfortable?
Does staying in what is familiar actually bring me peace?
Maybe part of loosening our grip is learning to picture what we are moving toward, not just what we are leaving behind. The more we can picture the peace, the growth, the health, or the new rhythm we are being invited into, the more doable the next right step becomes.
We can start by loosening our grip and taking one step. God does not ask us to know the whole road before we leave the old one. He just asks us to trust Him with the next step.