You Already Know What Needs to Change. So Why Aren’t You Acting on It?

Most people who come to me aren't actually confused.

They'll tell me they are. They'll say they need more clarity, more time, or more information. They need to think about it, weigh the options, and be certain they're making the right decision.

And then, somewhere in the conversation, something else becomes apparent.

They already know.

They've known for a while.

So the better question isn't, "What should you do?"

It's something else entirely.

Why aren't you acting on it?

That's a very different conversation.

Because once you stop treating the problem as a lack of information, you can begin looking at what's actually happening.

Maybe you know the job is over for you, but leaving means giving up the identity you've built around being successful there.

Maybe you know the relationship needs to change, but telling the truth could disappoint someone you love.

Maybe you know you want something different, but choosing it means walking away from a life that looks perfectly good from the outside.

Or maybe you've simply gotten very good at explaining why now isn't the right time.

That's the strange thing about being capable.

High performers can be especially good at this. The same intelligence, discipline, and problem-solving ability that created their success can also be used to build an airtight case for staying exactly where they are.

And the reasoning can sound perfectly responsible.

But what if I make the wrong choice?

You might.

You may look back someday and say, "That was the worst move I could have made."

You may also never make the move and die with your potential completely intact.

Both are choices you're free to make.

There is no magical choice that comes with a guarantee. There are different choices, and there are different realities associated with each one.

We spend an enormous amount of energy trying to find the option that eliminates uncertainty.

I don't think that option exists.

If I had a crystal ball, this would be much easier.

Unfortunately, I'm not in the fortune-teller business.

I'm in the human-being business.

And being human is messy.

Which choice has the most fireworks around it?

When you're looking at the possibilities in front of you, notice what happens.

Which one calls to you? Which one has the most fireworks around it?

Sometimes people call that excitement.

I call it aliveness.

Fear. Uncertainty. Possibility. Risk.

Those aren't necessarily signals that something has gone wrong. Sometimes they're evidence that you're standing near something that matters.

Think about a heart-rate monitor.

Peaks and valleys tell you the patient is alive. A flat line tells you something else.

And yet so much of our lives can become organized around eliminating the peaks and valleys.

A predictable job. A predictable identity. Predictable choices. A predictable life.

Safe enough that nothing terrible happens.

Safe enough that not much happens at all.

Of course, the presence of fireworks doesn't automatically make a choice wise. But neither does the absence of discomfort make the familiar choice right.

So I put the question back to you.

Would you rather have the peaks and valleys in front of you?

Or one long, monotone existence?

What about everything I've already invested?

People often look backward when they're considering change.

I've spent ten years here. I've built this career. I've worked so hard for this.

If I leave now, was all of that wasted?

I don't know about wasted.

It was a chapter of your life.

You learned something there. You became someone there. You developed capacities, relationships, judgment, resilience, and experience that you didn't have when you entered it.

Maybe that chapter put more arrows in your quiver for what's next.

Ending a chapter doesn't make the chapter a mistake.

And continuing a chapter doesn't make it meaningful.

The question is whether you're still choosing it.

Stop trying to eliminate discomfort

This may be the part we resist most.

We want the decision to become comfortable before we make it. We want enough certainty that fear disappears. We want some indication from the universe that says:

Yes. This is definitely the right move. Proceed.

Good luck with that.

What if being uncomfortable wasn't the thing to avoid?

What if getting comfortable with being uncomfortable is the whole ball game?

I invite people to begin making a home for themselves there.

Not because discomfort is inherently noble. Not because every frightening choice is wise.

But because if your requirement for action is the absence of uncertainty, you can spend a very long time waiting.

And waiting has consequences of its own.

Knowing is the easy part

There comes a point when more thinking isn't producing more truth.

It's just postponing the moment when you'll have to do something with the truth you already have.

And if you don't?

Eventually, you run out of runway.

Life moves pretty fast, and as far as any of us knows, we get one trip.

You may have known for months. Maybe years.

Knowing is the easy part.

What you do with what you know is entirely up to you.

Each choice leads to a different life.

Staying is a choice. Leaving is a choice. Speaking is a choice. Remaining silent is a choice.

Waiting is a choice.

There isn't a consequence-free option hiding somewhere that you haven't discovered yet.

So if you already know what needs to change, perhaps you don't need another answer.

Perhaps it's time for a different question.

Why aren't you acting on it?

And once you're willing to tell the truth about that, the conversation gets very interesting.