28 Sep Ten Steps Forward, Nine Steps Back

Long-term change is one of the hardest things we can attempt. In a very real sense, many of us have become addicts—not necessarily to substances, but to the ways we have conditioned ourselves to survive. Our upbringing, traumas, genetic coding, family dynamics, even echoes of what feels like past lives, have all shaped our nervous system and energy field. Layered on top of that are the countless environmental triggers—both inner and outer—that activate subconscious reactions and reinforce these old patterns.

By the time our energy system has “completed its training” in how to deal with life, it has become an addiction. These conditioned responses sink into the background of our awareness, operating on autopilot. What started as survival strategies in childhood often calcify into habits that keep us stuck, long after they’ve served their purpose.

And just like with any addiction, we may see the destruction it causes, yet still cling to the temporary high it offers. That spike of safety, recognition, reward, or acknowledgment feels more powerful than the slow, uncertain work of change. There is, in a strange way, something to be gained from being sick, stuck, or addicted: a sense of predictability. Even if the familiar brings suffering, at least we know what to expect. Better that, our subconscious reasons, than stepping into the unknown with no ground beneath our feet.

At the root of it all lies a fundamental lack of internal grounding and safety. Without it, we chase stimulation, drama, achievement, or other external substitutes for aliveness—short-lived though they may be.

The Collision of Consciousness and the Body

Some people remain in this wheel of addictive behavior their whole lives. But for many, a moment comes when clarity, urgency, or sheer physical need demands change. Yet much like quitting a drug cold turkey, breaking out of conditioned patterns is brutally hard.

Our consciousness experiences the desire for change as immediate, almost timeless. But the body, living in earthly time and space, is slow to follow. It has been wired over years—sometimes decades—into certain reactions, and it cannot reprogram itself overnight. This is the classic struggle: the immediacy of awareness versus the inertia of the body.

When healing is imminent, this inner conflict intensifies. On one hand, there is the undeniable pull toward transformation. On the other, the nervous system clings to what is known, no matter how destructive, because it feels safer. Progress often feels like ten steps forward and nine steps back. This dance is not failure—it is the natural tension between the opportunity for growth and the gravity of old conditioning.

Why Change Doesn’t Stick at First

This tension explains why interventions—whether therapy, retreats, or spiritual breakthroughs—are often short-lived in the early stages. The system simply doesn’t yet have the capacity to sustain the new. The nervous system is still addicted to the old way of being, while the new neural pathways have not yet been fully formed or embodied.

It’s as though the invitation to a new reality has arrived, but the house is not yet built to hold it. The body, mind, and spirit must be re-educated in a radical new way of meeting life. Until true safety is established, relapse into the old is nearly inevitable.

The True Challenge of Healing

The deeper challenge of long-term healing is not so much about learning a new set of coping strategies. At its essence, healing is a remembering. The path of awareness and compassion is so innate to being human that, when we encounter it again, it feels less like a new skill and more like a homecoming.

It invites us to live from oneness, to recognize that every aspect of life is part of our own creation. Within us is a technology of awareness that can bring the freedom and richness we long for.

The real obstacle, then, is how we relate to the old addictive patterns. Once we glimpse change on the horizon, we often want to push the old ways out as quickly as possible. But rejection only drives them underground, where they return with greater force.

The invitation—and the challenge—is to meet both the old and the new with equanimity. To hold the addictive responses and the emerging pathways of healing in the same compassionate awareness. When we stop rejecting what we’ve done to survive, we loosen its grip.

Lasting transformation does not come through judgment, denial, or force. It comes when we bring the light of awareness and the warmth of compassion to even the most conditioned parts of ourselves. In that embrace, the old can finally dissolve, and the new can take root.