Why Change feels hard - and what to do about it?
- flywheelcoachingan
- Jun 4
- 6 min read
Change – any change is difficult. But we as a species do make changes when we need to and build new routines and habits – some helpful, some not. But the point is that we are capable of change.
Change is the one constant we’re told to embrace in life. Yet, so often it is difficult, scary, exhilarating – all at the same time. Even the changes we want (remember the new year resolutions – I will lose weight, I will go to the gym, I will write a book, I will quit my job….)—the ones we know will improve our lives, can feel overwhelming.
Why is that?
Change Isn’t the Problem—Our Relationship to It Is
Change, at its core, is neutral. It's not inherently hard or easy. What gives it weight is the meaning we assign to it. For one person, going to the gym 5 days a week may be just a small adjustment to their schedule of 3 gym days a week – it’s a logistical change. For another person, struggling with weight issues, going to gym once a week, could look like an insurmountable challenge. The difference lies in what the change triggers in us.
In psychological terms, this is partly about loss aversion - we fear losing what we know more than we value potential gains (Kahneman & Tversky, 1979). But there’s more to it. Change is often interpreted not just as a shift in action but as a challenge to the self. It can threaten our sense of who we are, how others see us and where we belong.
Easy Change vs. Hard Change
To understand why some changes feel like speed bumps while others feel like mountains, it helps to distinguish between easy and hard change.
Easy change involves behaviours or skills that can be adjusted without challenging our core identity or belief systems. Eg: learning to use a new tool at work. These are technical shifts. We mainly need three things to implement this change: structure, motivation and support to follow through.
Hard change, by contrast, is transformational. It demands we re-examine who we are, what we value or how we see the world. Eg: Leaving a stable job to pursue a calling. These are not just behavioural adjustments - they’re identity shifts.
The Role of Context
What’s hard for one person may be easy for another because our internal and external contexts differ. Social support, psychological readiness, cultural norms, life stage—all of these shape whether a change feels doable or destabilising. A newly promoted manager who has mentors and support systems is more likely to embrace their new role confidently. Someone in the same position without those supports may struggle to assert themselves or feel legitimate.
This is why change can’t be treated as a one-size-fits-all process. It requires us to consider the whole person and their environment.
Hard Change involves what Robert Kegan calls subject-object shifts: moving things that have shaped us unconsciously into conscious awareness, so we can work with them intentionally.
Unsurprisingly, hard change tends to provoke more resistance. It feels unsafe, not because we lack willpower, but because it unsettles our internal architecture. So how do we move through change, especially the hard kind?
Building Agency: An Antidote to Change Paralysis
One of the answers lies in cultivating agency—our ability to act with intention and influence our circumstances. Agency isn’t about being in control of everything; it’s about believing that we have choices and that our actions can make a difference.
Here is how this works in real life.
Case Study: Rewriting the Story of Food – Building Agency for Health
Background
My client, a senior professional known for her drive and discipline, came to coaching with a clear health goal. She had committed fully to a gym routine, showing up several times a week without fail. Yet when it came to her diet, she described herself as having “no control.” Despite her track record of overcoming challenges in other areas of life, this was one place where she felt completely stuck.
The Nature of the Challenge
At first glance, her challenge seemed behavioural. She needed to adjust portion sizes, avoid processed foods, stick to a meal plan - all the usual advice. But as our conversations deepened, it became clear that this was not about knowledge or even motivation. Her relationship with food was emotionally rich and tied closely to identity. She grew up in a culture where food was a central expression of love and care. Her mother had cooked elaborate meals to show affection. Over time, food had become synonymous with comfort, reward and celebration.
Her dilemma wasn’t about discipline - it was about meaning. Changing her diet felt like she would be letting go of something deeply personal and symbolic: her mother’s love, her cultural heritage, and the pleasure she believed she had “earned” through hard work.
Surfacing the Real Choices
Once we recognised the emotional weight beneath the behaviour, we slowed down to explore her real choices. She could, of course, continue eating the way she always had. That path would preserve the comfort, cultural connection and emotional satisfaction she associated with food—but it also meant continuing to live with growing health risks, which were becoming more acute with age.
She could also change her diet entirely, but that felt like a rejection of her identity—something she wasn’t ready for. So we explored a third, more nuanced option: could she adapt her approach within the boundaries of her beloved cuisine. How could she reframe her diet while preserving emotional meaning and make physical health a companion goal?
This choice–cost–benefit analysis became a key part of the coaching. We returned to it several times, going deeper each time. Eventually, she began to feel ready to act—not from pressure, but from clarity.
Experimentation Over Resolution
Rather than jump to a drastic diet overhaul, she committed to a series of small, low-stakes experiments. She tried changing her dinner time. She tested intermittent fasting. She looked for healthier versions of the dishes she loved. Some experiments failed—and when they did, she reflected on why and what tiny adjustment might help next time. When something worked, she embedded it as a micro-habit.
This approach reframed hard change as a series of manageable steps. Each small success built confidence. She ate the proverbial elephant (of hard change) one spoon (of easy change) at a time.
Shaping the Environment
Another insight came when we explored her environment. She did the family grocery shopping—so the crisps she bought for her child would end up as midnight snacks. Her late-night work sessions kept her close to the kitchen and its temptations.
She invited her family into the process. Her child began reading with her at night, helping her step away from the kitchen. Her husband took over the shopping and started picking up lower-calorie versions of the snacks she loved. These practical changes didn’t solve the emotional root of the issue, but they removed friction and added support. She wasn’t doing it alone—and that made a difference.
It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint
Like all hard changes, this one unfolded over time. Setbacks were inevitable. For her, vacations posed the biggest risk of relapse. So we planned for that. She identified what she would allow herself to enjoy guilt-free, what boundaries she would stick to regardless of location, and how she would gently return to her routines after the break. This wasn’t about perfection - it was about intention. She forgave herself in advance for the missteps she knew might come and created scaffolding to help her recover quickly.
The learning and the growth
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