I’ve been on a couple of parallel journeys lately. Diabetes is always there in the background — honestly, it’s become the easiest one of late. But I moved recently, after 40-something years in Texas, and I’ve been in my new place in Arkansas for a couple of months now. And I’m writing a book. All good things. All things I chose. And all of them have brought a healthy dose of chaos with them.

So I thought I would unpack chaos a bit.  It’s actually not as unplanned as it may feel.

We Never Arrive

Here’s your reality check: we never, ever arrive at our desired goal. “Better” is not a destination. It’s a moving target, and that’s actually the good news, because it means we’re always evolving. But it also means that right when you finally get everything the way you want it, some part of you starts wanting something new. That’s not a flaw. That’s just how growth works.

Growth Requires Chaos

When we want something different, we have to let go of the old way. Whatever wasn’t serving us has to go. And no matter where you’re starting from, that in-between space,  the letting go of one thing before the new thing settles in, is chaos. It’s disruption. It’s the snow globe getting shaken up.

Think about putting together a puzzle. You have to dump all the pieces on the table before you can start sorting them into place. It takes a while. It looks like a mess in the middle. But our physical body, our emotional self, is always trying to create order out of that mess.  Clinically we call that homeostasis. If is your body’s desired goal.   We are a soup of chemicals, enzymes, fluids, cells, all working overtime to maintain balance. Balance feels safe. And the moment we change the status quo, even toward something better, we tip ourselves out of that safety, because now the future isn’t as predictable as it was.

That’s why we resist. Your body isn’t broken when it resists change — it’s doing exactly what it’s designed to do. It likes the routine, the set point, the “this is when we go to bed, this is when we watch our shows” of it all. “New” is unpredictable, and unpredictable is unsafe to your nervous system, even when the new thing is exactly what you asked for.

Reframing the Chaos

So here’s what I’ve been practicing with my own resistance to writing — because let me tell you, it is so much easier to watch TV at night than to sit down and put my hands on the keyboard.

Instead of fighting the discomfort, I reframe it. I tell myself: this is the change part. This is what it feels like when I’m moving from where I was to where I want to be. That simple naming exercise takes it from something scary and unknown to something known — and known feels safer to your nervous system, even when it’s still hard.  Our brains like labels and order and rituals.  Rituals are predictable.

So we use a little “mini ritual” to stabilize the system in the midst of chaos.   Give that gray matter something to do!

1. Notice. Notice the unrest — that’s your body flagging that you’re doing something different than usual. Unrest is the chaos of change.
2. Pause and disrupt. Interrupt the thought loop before it spins you further into “I can’t do this.” A pause breaks the spell.
3. Soothe. Hand over heart, a slow deep breath, whatever stimulates your vagus nerve for you. Tell yourself: I’m okay. The lights are on, the bills are paid. I just feel weird right now, and that’s what this is.
4. Listen. Once you’ve calmed down a little, there’s usually a quieter voice underneath the scared one — the one that actually wants you to succeed. Give yourself a moment to hear it.  You may need to do steps 1-3 several times – that’s ok you’ll get better at it!
5. Choose, then act. Make the choice from that calmer place, not from the panic. You’ll make a dramatically different decision.
6. Celebrate. This part cannot be skipped. Every small thing you do — sitting down at the keyboard, walking into the party where you don’t know anyone, going one more minute without the thing you’re trying to quit — deserves a genuine pat on the back. That celebration is what tells your nervous system this is safe, and it makes the next time a little easier.

It’s not linear. You might have to talk yourself through it more than once in the same afternoon. That’s fine. It’s a rewiring, not a light switch.

Find Your Symbol

One more thing I’ll leave you with: create a symbol or a ritual that anchors you back to the feeling of safety and possibility. Mine is the dragonfly,  my little symbol of transformation. It reminds me I am allowed and empowered to do something new (and new brings chaos). Instantly, my brain understands and shifts into understanding, and I feel better.   So when life feels hard again, or I don’t want to get up and do the thing, I have a pathway back.

Change will always bring chaos. That part isn’t optional. But you can learn to recognize it for what it is, soothe yourself through it, and keep moving anyway. That’s the whole practice — not eliminating the discomfort, but knowing exactly what it is when it shows up.

So next time a little chaos crosses your path, consider the change it is offering.  Maybe there is something there to learn.

Be well!