Why We Get Scared When Change Starts Working (or We Backslide)

Sep 15

I’ve been blogging consistently now for about six months. I’m finally out of the sandbox, and I get about 1,000ish people per day reading my writing.
You’d think it would be exciting for me, but some days it actually freaks me out a little. Even though I’ve had more positive people reaching out than negative ones, I still sometimes question everything.
I’ve even had moments where I wonder if I should delete all 700+ blog posts and just hide again.

I was having one of those moments the other day and I was wondering why?

I bet you’ve been there too, so you probably know what I’m talking about!
You decide, this time I’m doing it differently. It could be a new job, a healthier routine, or some fresh start in some way/shape/form.
For a moment the universe seems like it’s on your side: something shifts, things begin moving, and there’s actual promise.

And then…fear comes out to play.
Self doubt rears its ugly head. Things get messy somehow, or you start slipping backward.
Suddenly the thing you built feels unstable, like a house built out of bubbles and thin air that might collapse at any moment.

Why does this happen so often?
Why does change, even when it’s a good thing, bring so much fear?
And how much of this is built into us by society, by our upbringing, by stories we’ve been told?

In this post I want to pull back the curtain and explore where that fear comes from, why timing and momentum sometimes feels like a trap, and how we’re wired (and programmed) to sabotage or retreat just as things begin to glow.
Because understanding that programming is the first step to doing things differently.

The moment it starts to work

Let’s think of change like walking across a room in complete darkness (you haven’t turned on any lights in here yet).
First, you stumble around trying to get the feel of the room.
You don’t see where you’re going, so your footing is unsure: every step is cautious and slow.
Then, suddenly, you flip on a light…maybe a small lamp or the flashlight on your phone, and you see the room.
You see you’re nearly there, the path is real, you can see the furniture you’ve passed, and you can finally plan the rest of the walk.

That moment when the “light flipped on” is full of both relief and utter dread.
Relief is almost obvious, because you see the progress, because the change is becoming real for your life.
But dread also shows up because now you see all the obstacles, all the things that could go wrong, all the parts of the room you might have mis-stepped around.

In that moment also comes awareness: “What if I lose this? What if I can’t hold it steady?”

When change finally starts working, you're out of the fuzzy hope-zone of puppy love and into the sharp and brutal edge of reality.
Mistakes become more visible (every typo for me becomes so embarrassing), doubts echo louder, and suddenly stakes feel higher.

So often people pull back or sabotage just as momentum builds because fear of losing what’s gained is stronger than the hope of getting more.
The blind hope that got us there is replaced with maintenance, holding on, and not messing up.

Backward steps: That’s part of the path, though you’d never get told that up front

When we change, we aren’t moving in a straight line.
There are cliffs, plateaus, and tumbles so bad you think you might have broken a leg.
Sometimes you plow forward ruthlessly, then something hits (an old belief or some external obstacle), and you slip back.
Those days might feel like failure, but it’s often just part of the process.

It almost feels as though we’ve been programmed to react so poorly to slipping back.

Society tells us success looks linear more often than not.
The stories we hear are “from zero to hero,” “overnight success,” or “instant transformation.”
Rarely do we see people admit “I tried, I fell, I got up, I fell again, then I got there.”
So when we fall back, it feels like we broke the unspoken rule of success.

If you shared your intention to change maybe on social media or in person (like new habits, new identity, new dreams), others are watching.
Backsliding sometimes feels like letting others down, or confirming what you thought they believed about you.

And remember, we’re often not just trying to change an action of ours; we’re trying to change who we believe we are.
If you believe “I am someone who sticks to things,” then falling back feels like letting yourself down.
It’s better sometimes, unconsciously, to stay safe in the old self than risk losing that identity.

So backward steps are painful not just because of the consequences, but because internally, we feel torn: hope vs safety; new self vs old self; promise vs shame.

The programming: what society, family, culture teach us about change, risk, safety

Change isn’t just something personal, we are taught, from very early on, what change is allowed, what change is safe, and what change is dangerous.
We absorb rules, signals, warnings, stories as part of growing up and learning what’s right and wrong in this world.

Some of the “default settings” we inherit from our parents and others around us are:

Better the devil you know.
Many societies and cultures emphasize stability, loyalty, consistency. Families often prize that “steady job,” “reliable partner,” “don’t rock the boat.”
So when change threatens stability, even positive change, internal alarms go off.
You need that 401K and health insurance, even if it’s the death of your dreams.

Fear of the unknown.
We are wired to fear uncertainty, because the unknown means potential danger for our ancestors.
Even if something might be well worth it in the end, if the path to it is new, our brains often handicap the unknown worse than the known, however flawed the known is.
I feel like this is a lot of people I know in relationships they hate, afraid to leave because the theoretical next person might be worse.

Expectations and what others will think rules us more than we’d like to admit.
We are trained to look to others like our parents, our friends, our coworkers for cues.
What is expected for those around you becomes invisible expectations for yourself without even realizing it. If everyone around you prioritizes “don’t fail,” “stay safe,” “stay small,” then big change also risks your current social status.

Programming through stories matters more than you’d think.
Fairy tales, religious stories, family histories, movies, so many of them feature heroes who suffer for their change, or who return home after their journey.
We soak up morals faster than a paper-towel commercial sops up spilled coffee: change is dangerous, sacrifice is required, and true comfort is lost.
Those stories give us both inspiration and warnings.

It’s also not just in our heads.
There are practical consequences that come with change.
If you change jobs, habits, or even relationships there may be actual financial losses, social losses, status losses, or even some health risks (thinking about my husband Pro Wrestling full-time!).
These real consequences reinforce fear.

There’s also the fact that once we’ve done something one way for a long time, our brain supports that way.
It’s literally wired into our neural pathways, our comfort zones.
The cognitive effort of making new decisions equates to the energy cost.
Changing demands energy, which feels risky.

And lastly, from childhood, many of us are rewarded for not messing up more than for trying.
We get praised for avoiding mistakes, trying safe moves, staying within the rules of the classroom.
The message becomes: play it safe, and don’t embarrass yourself.
It’s better to have a small success than large attempt with possible failure.

What kicks our fear into overdrive

Sometimes it feels like the better things get, the more you have to lose.
Once you’ve built momentum, the idea of failure feels bigger. You imagine all the work, all the hope, crumbling. That spawns anxiety: what if I lose it all?

My personal favorite brand of self-doubt is imposter syndrome. When something begins working, often you feel unworthy.
You wonder: Did I just get lucky? Do I really deserve this?
That inner voice that just won’t shut up can sabotage forward motion, and self-sabotage becomes safety.

Perfectionism and harsh self-judgment can also play a big part because the new you or the new way is more visible (everyone is watching), every imperfection feels a lot bigger than it actually is.
Every backward step feels like proof: “see, you weren’t ready.”
So people push too hard, expect too much of themselves, then burn out or collapse backward.

Also, once progress is out in the open, others expect growth to continue.
People ask questions: “When is this going to be steady?” “Are you sure?”
Even if it’s made with love, those comments adds pressure.
Often the thought “If I fail and now everyone is watching, what will people think?” becomes yet another risk.

How much is inside us vs how much is imposed on us

This is a question people don’t ask enough in my opinion.
Are we scared because we are inherently fearful, or because society taught us to be?
The truth might be a bit of both.

Biological wiring gives us fear as a survival mechanism. Our brains evolved to avoid danger, to protect us from those scary unknowns, and to value safety…duh.
If every new thing you tried killed you, you’d be dead…so fear has been useful in our past. (Have you ever seen the movie The Croods?)

What we were taught about “failure,” what risk looks like in our personal home, and how mistakes were handled, all of that forms the lens through which we see change when we are adults.

Sometimes when society punishes failure harshly (either socially, financially, or even emotionally), the fear jumps higher than it should be.

And lastly, your own personal history plays a part too: trauma, patterns of being shamed, punished, or abandoned when trying new things, these amplify our fears.
On the other side of it, people who had safe spaces to fail often embrace change more easily. (Mental note taken for my future children).

How to work with the fear instead of letting it stop you

Because once you see what’s really going on, you can do things differently.
Here are some ideas for how to build change that lasts, even when fear shows up, even when backwards steps happen.

Make change small at first, begin with micro-shifts.
Tiny successes matter too, and when things are small and growing, it’s easier to hold onto, a lot less pressure.
People see it, you see it, you start trusting yourself.
This is my personal mantra, all of my projects are slow and steady.

Build a “safe fail” environment for yourself and be okay with messing up.
Give yourself some grace, please. You’re human.
Practice in low-stakes zones in your life so you know what it looks like first.
If you slip a bit, there is no catastrophe, just feedback for yourself.
Normalize backsliding as part of the process and not the destroyer of it.

Surround yourself with mirrors and believers, people who see change in you, who celebrate it, who don’t shame you for slipping.
Witnesses make change real, they help you hold to your accountability.

When fear pops up, ask yourself why did you embark on change in the first place?
What values drive it?
Hold that in awareness, purpose is the compass that helps orient you when everything else feels chaotic.

Practice patience is a huge one for me and a lot of others I know. Momentum is not permanent, and change often happens in bursts, starts, then pauses.
Trust that some weeks you’ll soar, and some weeks you’ll limp on.
That’s completely normal, what matters is direction more than speed.

And lastly, celebrate even those small victories, because celebrating reminds you: change is happening.
Even when it doesn’t look heroic, it’s worthy. Even small shifts count, even small consistency matters, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Yes, it’s scary, but it can feel beautiful too

Here’s what I believe: the fear you feel when change starts working (or you notice yourself slipping) is not proof that you’re doing it wrong.
It’s proof that something real is happening, that the edges of your world are stretching.
You’re entering a new territory where your comfort used to live.

Changing your life is messy, and painful.
But the fear, those backward steps, the self doubt that won’t shut up, they are not signs you should stop.
They are just the edges of becoming someone new, the unlit parts of the room you haven’t walked yet.

If you lean into the discomfort and build yourself a supportive structure, and hold your vision tight, you will find that all of your goals might not have been as scary as you originally thought.

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Michele Gargiulo http://michelegargiulo.com