Transforming Avoidance: The Space Between Knowing and Changing

Right before we do something different, sometimes there’s often a jolt of resistance—a deep, instinctive pullback. It’s not just hesitation. It can feel like standing at the edge of a cliff, even when you know the drop isn’t real.

This is the space between knowing and doing.

Most people don’t come to therapy because they want change. They come because something in their life hurts too much to ignore. But when it comes time to do something differently, they may recoil—not because they want to stay stuck, but because something inside whispers: This is dangerous.

Change, especially the kind that matters, often feels like threat.

Why We Cling to Familiar Pain

Avoidance isn’t a conscious decision—it’s a nervous system reflex.

Maybe someone learned early that anger led to punishment, so they buried it until they couldn’t find it anymore. Maybe they cried once and were met with coldness, so they taught themselves never to cry again.

Sometimes avoidance is loud: “I can’t deal with that.”
Sometimes it’s subtle: “I’m just not ready.”
But under every story is the same fear: If I feel this, it’ll destroy me.

Avoidance becomes a way to stay safe. But it doesn’t eliminate pain. It just spreads it out, letting it leak into relationships, decisions, identity.

Why Insight Isn’t Enough

Some people think if they can just understand their patterns—dissect their childhood, analyze every failure—they’ll change. But change doesn’t come from understanding alone.

You don’t stop fearing dogs by learning about them. You stop fearing dogs by petting one—and surviving it.

The nervous system learns through experience.

A person who’s always shrunk themselves doesn’t heal by understanding why they do it. They heal when they take up space—and notice that no one leaves. The one who’s avoided grief doesn’t heal by naming the reasons. They heal by crying—and realizing their body can hold it.

Change begins when a new experience contradicts the old one. That’s the mismatch that rewires the brain.

How the Nervous System Updates

The body prepares for what it knows. If you’ve been rejected, your shoulders hunch when you speak up. If you’ve been punished for being too much, your voice softens before you even open your mouth.

This is why logic doesn’t change behavior. Memory reconsolidation explains that the nervous system updates only when experience shows it something new.

• If you’ve always expected dismissal, and someone finally listens—that shifts things.

• If you’ve always feared abandonment, and someone stays—your body notices.

The goal isn’t to push through resistance. It’s to create enough contradiction that the old pattern no longer makes sense.

Small Steps That Change Everything

• Notice your reactions when you approach discomfort. What thoughts appear? What sensations show up in your body?

• Ask what you expect. If you speak honestly, do you expect silence? If you ask for help, do you expect rejection? These expectations are old—they come from somewhere.

• Experiment with tiny mismatches. If you always say “yes,” try “maybe.” If you avoid conflict, write the unsent letter. You’re not trying to fix your whole life—just tilt the pattern slightly.

• Let it land. When something goes better than expected, don’t brush it off. Let it register. That’s the rewiring.

• Expect backlash. Resistance doesn’t vanish overnight. Even after good experiences, doubt creeps in. Keep going anyway.

What Real Change Feels Like

Change doesn’t feel good at first.

It feels awkward, like wearing someone else’s clothes. It feels shaky, like stepping onto unfamiliar ground. Sometimes it feels outright wrong.

But then, over time, it doesn’t.

Eventually, you stop flinching. You breathe a little deeper. You say what you mean. You stay present for the feelings you used to run from.

And the thing that once seemed impossible—the conversation, the boundary, the truth—becomes something you can do. Maybe even something that sets you free.