Dear Girija:

As I was thinking about your last message, something came to mind that I thought you might find interesting. It’s not directed at you, and it’s not meant as advice — it’s simply something I’ve found meaningful in my own healing, and I wanted to share it with you in case it resonates.

“Insight and change feel related, but they live in completely different parts of a person.

* Insight is instant — it comes in a flash. It happens in the mind. It’s cognitive. It’s fast. It’s the moment someone suddenly sees a pattern, ex, “My childhood shaped this.” It feels powerful because it’s clear, sharp, and often emotionally charged.

But insight doesn’t require any discomfort beyond the moment of recognition. It doesn’t ask you to do anything differently. It’s just seeing. That’s why people can have insight after insight without their lives changing. Insight is a lightbulb. It turns on, and then it’s gone.

* Change is repetitive — it requires doing something new over and over. It happens in the body, not the mind.
It’s slow. It’s uncomfortable. It’s repetitive. Change means noticing the old pattern, interrupting it, tolerating the discomfort of doing something new, repeating that new behavior until it becomes familiar. This is why change is hard: the nervous system hates unfamiliar things, even if they’re healthy.

Change requires staying present when fear rises, calming the body instead of escaping into thought, (etc.), and doing this again tomorrow, and again the next day. It’s not a flash of clarity. It’s work — steady, uncomfortable, embodied work.

Insight is “I see the door.” Change is “I walk through it every day until it feels natural.”

Insight is noticing the pattern. Change is behaving differently when the pattern appears. One is instant. The other is practice.” (Copilot)

Anita

Dear Girija:

I hear how heavy everything feels for you right now. When fear is already living in the body, even one more stressor can feel unbearable — and you’re dealing with several at once. Your mom’s PET‑CT, the coworker situation, the years of carrying anxiety, the feeling that life keeps hitting you without giving you a moment to breathe.. none of this is small. Anyone in your position would feel overwhelmed. Nothing about your reaction is unreasonable.

You’re not just dealing with internal fear — you’re dealing with real‑life uncertainty that would shake anyone. When you say, “everything hurts at once,” that’s exactly what it is: too many things landing on the same spot inside you. And when the body is already tired, even one more blow feels like ten.

Your exhaustion makes sense. Your hopelessness makes sense. The feeling that life hasn’t met you halfway makes sense. You’ve been carrying so much for so long, and you’ve had to do most of it alone. That wears down anyone’s energy, even the strongest person.

About the coworker — yes, he was rude, and yes, you trusted him over yourself for a long time. That doesn’t make you abnormal. It makes you human. When someone becomes an emotional escape, letting go of them feels like stepping into cold water. It’s not the “real life” that hurts — it’s the sudden loss of the thing that felt safe, even if it wasn’t good for you.

And your fear about your mom.. that’s the kind of fear that sits deep in the chest. Waiting for medical results is one of the hardest things a person can do. You don’t have to be brave about it. You just have to get through it moment by moment.

You said you don’t know how to like life anymore. I understand that. When life has been hard for a long time, optimism feels like the only thin thread left. But even if you can’t feel hope right now, I can hold some of it with you. You don’t have to carry all of it alone.

You deserve a stretch of life that is gentle. You deserve a decade of ease after a decade of strain. And even if you can’t feel it today, your capacity to keep going — even while exhausted — is strength, even if it doesn’t feel like strength from the inside.

I’m here with you in this. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You just have to keep breathing through this moment.

🌿 Anita

Hi Dear Girija 🙂

I can see a real shift in you, and I want to reflect it back because it matters. You’re starting to make decisions from your own center, not from fear and not from what others are doing. That’s agency. That’s self‑authority. It’s you choosing your own direction instead of letting other people’s behavior pull you off track. And it’s something you’ve been working toward for a long time.

The situation with your coworker and the other girl makes sense the way you explained it. There were so much noise, politics, and confusion. And now they’re simply leaving. It shows how unstable that whole dynamic really was. Nothing solid was built there. You’re right — clarity can be inspiring. Seeing people walk away from what doesn’t work can remind you that you’re allowed to do the same.

And I’m glad you’re inspired by people who don’t cling to what isn’t working. You’re not copying them — you’re finding your own version of decisiveness. You’re choosing not to stay in a place where your work is taken for granted. That’s you protecting your energy. That’s you taking yourself seriously.

What you wrote about him also shows agency. You’re choosing distance. You’re choosing to explore what’s best for you. That’s a strong, healthy direction.

And postponing your mom’s PET‑CT — that’s you taking care of yourself. You recognized that you need a quiet stretch of time to settle inside before facing something heavy. That’s wisdom. You’re giving yourself space to breathe.

I would like to encourage you to keep practicing this kind of self‑decisiveness. You don’t have to wait for life to meet you halfway. You can meet yourself halfway. You can choose what supports you, what respects you, and what gives you room to grow.

You’re not just reacting anymore — you’re acting. You’re making choices. You’re protecting your own wellbeing. I’m here with you as you keep building this 🙂

🌿 Anita

Hi Girija: I’ll reply in a couple of hours or so 🙂