When knowing better doesn’t make change easier
The day after returning to London, I found myself pacing around the flat, unsure where to start. Eventually I recognised my familiar avoidance pattern and sat down to meet what was there. I felt homesick. Jet lagged. Anxious about a large project deadline in February. It wasn’t comfortable. I let myself cry. And I knew, instinctively, that this was the only sane way through.
Tara Brach’s voice popped into my head, whispering RAIN. Not the drizzle outside, but the awareness practice: Recognise, Allow, Investigate, Nurture.
I closed my eyes, wrapped myself with a blanket of love and sat with the feelings for a few minutes. As they always do when met with attention, they softened. Then I reorganised my day to allow space for processing and some gentle productivity.
That pause changed everything.
Without it, I would have pushed, stayed dysregulated, and likely achieved very little. With it, I recalibrated my expectations to match what my nervous system could actually handle and avoided spiralling into the familiar “not good enough” loop.
RAIN stopped that in its tracks.
Why insight alone doesn’t create change
I spend my life supporting people to eat well, regulate their nervous systems, and live in rhythm with nature. I understand the mechanics of change deeply. And still, there are moments when knowing better isn’t enough.
Most of us know what would support us: earlier nights, regular meals, less stimulation, more time outside. So why can’t we always do it? Because sometimes our system isn’t ready to receive structure yet.
That doesn’t mean we’re failing. It means something in us needs to be met first.
What resistance is really protecting
We often label resistance as laziness, lack of discipline, or self sabotage. But in my experience, personally and professionally, resistance is usually protection.
After periods of intensity or emotional exposure, the body and nervous system prioritise safety over optimisation. They slow us down. Soften our edges. Ask us to stay close.
In this light, January is not a starting gun. It is a threshold. And thresholds ask for listening, not pushing.
The seasonal mistake we keep making
Culturally, we treat January as spring. But in nature, it is still deep winter. Roots are resting. Sap is slow. Energy is conserved underground.
When we override that with harsh plans or sudden overhauls, something in us quietly resists. Not because we don’t want change, but because the timing is off.
True change respects rhythm.
What I’m practising instead
This January, I’m practising something simpler:
Calibrating my goals to my available resources
Choosing regularity and steadiness over intensity
Noticing when “shoulds” appear and softening them, with RAIN
Change still happens this way. Often more deeply and sustainably.
Attending to my nervous system was possibly the greatest enabler in my own healing journey. This year, I’ll be sharing more about working with the body and nervous system, through food, rhythm, mindset, and seasonal alignment, so that change feels possible, not punishing. Exciting, not so scary.