The Moment Before You Fall Back Into an Old Habit

I knew I was going to get distracted today.

Not because I had anything particularly distracting planned, but because I know myself. I know how easily I can get pulled into checking the news, scrolling through social media, or finding something else to do when there's work in front of me that requires my attention.

It's a familiar pattern, and I suspect most of us have some version of it.

Maybe yours isn't social media. Maybe it's procrastination, eating when you're stressed, drinking at night to “unwind”, falling back into an unhealthy relationship, or allowing a familiar thought to take you down a path you've traveled hundreds of times before.

What interests me is the moment just before it happens. That subtle feeling that begins to pull us toward something we already know isn't serving us.

It's almost like quicksand. At first, you barely notice it. Then, before you realize what's happening, you're back in the same place.

And there's something strangely comforting about it.

That's the part I wanted to explore.

The Familiar Pull

There's a story in Homer's Odyssey about the Sirens, whose beautiful singing was so irresistible that sailors would abandon everything to follow it, eventually leading to their destruction.

Odysseus knew what was coming. He knew the song would be almost impossible to resist, so he had his crew tie him to the mast of the ship before they reached the Sirens.

What I find interesting about that story isn't so much the Sirens themselves. It's that Odysseus prepared for a moment when he knew he wouldn't be able to trust his own judgment.

I think our old habits work in a similar way, although usually with much less dramatic consequences.

There's an internal invitation that comes with them. It's familiar, reassuring, and sometimes surprisingly persuasive.

• You've worked hard today. You deserve a break.

• Just check your phone for a few minutes.

• You're stressed. This will help you relax.

• You can always start tomorrow.

And often, before we've even consciously considered what's happening, we've already agreed.

I don't think these feelings necessarily come from some bad or broken part of us. In many cases, they're familiar ways we've learned to escape discomfort. The mind recognizes something that once provided relief, even temporarily, and naturally wants to return to it.

The problem is that what feels good in the moment isn't always what we actually want for ourselves.

So how do we interrupt that pattern?

I've been experimenting with something in my own life that comes directly from the work I do with clients.

Preparing for the Person I Want to Become

Last night, before going to sleep, I spent some time thinking about who I want to be moving forward.

There's an exercise I often use toward the end of my hypnosis sessions that I call the True Self. It involves connecting with a future version of ourselves, usually three to six months ahead, and beginning to experience what it might feel like to be that person.

We explore four areas: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.

What would it feel like to be physically healthier? To have a clearer, more focused mind? To be emotionally grounded and more connected to our hearts? And spiritually, whatever that means to the individual, what would it feel like to have a stronger connection to something greater than ourselves?

The idea is to go beyond simply thinking about these things. We try to experience them internally, using imagination, feelings, and whatever other senses come naturally.

Last night, I decided to do this for myself.

I closed my eyes and imagined entering a safe place, another technique I regularly use with clients. A safe place is simply an internal environment where you feel comfortable, protected, and at ease. It can be somewhere you've visited or somewhere entirely imagined.

From there, I began connecting with the version of myself I wanted to become.

I imagined my body healthier and stronger. My mind clear, focused, and capable of doing the work I had been putting off. Emotionally, I wanted to feel more open, patient, and connected. Spiritually, I wanted to feel that quiet connection to something beyond the constant activity of my thoughts.

I spent some time holding onto those feelings, allowing myself to experience what it might be like to live that way.

It felt good. I went to sleep feeling peaceful and woke up feeling much the same.

But there was something else I wanted to do.

I knew that somewhere during the following day, the familiar resistance was going to return.

And this time, I wanted to be ready for it.

Knowing the Resistance Will Come

This morning, I went for a walk and continued the same exercise.

As I walked, I thought about how I wanted to feel throughout the day. I was trying to reinforce those intentions, not just as ideas, but as something I could begin bringing into my everyday behavior.

I also worked out, which made a noticeable difference in how I felt.

Tony Robbins often talks about changing our emotional state through movement and physiology. I've found this to be helpful. Sometimes, when we're stuck in our heads, getting up and moving changes the experience almost immediately.

It doesn't need to be an intense workout. A short walk around the block can be enough to interrupt what's happening internally.

But I knew physical movement alone wasn't the whole answer.

The real challenge was going to come later, when that old feeling appeared.

So I asked myself a simple question.

What am I going to do when it shows up?

Not if it shows up. When.

I think that's an important distinction.

We often set intentions when we're feeling motivated, clearheaded, and optimistic. We decide we're going to eat better, become more productive, stop worrying, or change some longstanding behavior.

And in that moment, we mean it.

But then life happens. We get tired, frustrated, uncomfortable, or overwhelmed, and suddenly the person who made those promises feels very far away.

I wanted to prepare for that version of myself, too.

The Knock at the Door

There's a particular feeling I've come to recognize when I'm about to fall into one of these patterns.

It's subtle. Almost like a little knock at the door.

I might be working on something that requires concentration, and suddenly I feel the urge to do something else. Check the news. Open social media. Find some small distraction that gives me a moment of relief.

There's almost a gravitational pull to it.

And what's interesting is how quickly the mind begins justifying the behavior. It offers perfectly reasonable explanations for why I should stop what I'm doing.

The old pattern doesn't usually announce itself as something harmful. It comes disguised as something helpful, comforting, or deserved.

Today, when I noticed that familiar feeling beginning to pull me away, I did what I had planned the night before.

I stopped.

I closed my eyes and brought my attention to my breathing.

Nothing complicated. I simply followed the breath for about a minute, allowing myself to notice what was happening without immediately responding to it.

It reminded me of an image Ram Dass has used, where thoughts are like leaves floating down a stream.

We can notice a thought passing by without jumping into the water and grabbing hold of it. We can allow it to continue downstream.

That's what I was trying to do.

The urge was there, but I didn't have to follow it.

And perhaps the most interesting part wasn't the breathing itself. It was that I had already made the decision to breathe before I felt the urge.

I didn't have to negotiate with myself in the moment.

I had a plan.

In the past, when that same feeling appeared, I often had nothing prepared. I would simply follow it, sometimes without realizing what had happened until much later.

This time was different.

Not because I had suddenly become more disciplined or because the resistance had disappeared.

I had simply recognized it early enough to make another choice.

Getting to Know the Parts That Hold Us Back

In the work I do with clients, we sometimes explore different parts of ourselves.

I don't necessarily mean separate personalities. It's more a way of understanding the different motivations, emotions, beliefs, and behaviors that can exist within the same person.

A part of us may genuinely want to be healthy while another part wants the comfort of familiar habits. One part may want to build a business, write a book, or pursue something meaningful, while another part is terrified of failure or being seen.

Sometimes these parts seem to work against each other.

You might think of them as the internal saboteurs.

I like to imagine them almost as familiar characters in our lives. There's the friend who always wants you to forget your responsibilities and go have fun. The cynical neighbor who reminds you of everything that could go wrong. The part that wants to stay in bed, avoid difficult conversations, or escape into something comfortable.

And sometimes there's the part that simply doesn't want to feel uncomfortable.

But rather than treating these parts as enemies, I think it can be useful to become curious about them.

What are they trying to do for us?

Maybe the part that constantly distracts me is trying to provide relief from pressure. Maybe the part that procrastinates is trying to protect me from the possibility of failing. Maybe the part that avoids change is simply more comfortable with what it knows.

Understanding that doesn't mean we need to keep following those patterns.

It means we can begin recognizing them for what they are.

A feeling can be real without needing to determine our next action.

That's a distinction I think we often miss.

What Will You Do When It Happens?

If there's something you're trying to change in your life, I'd encourage you to spend a little time with the same exercise.

Begin by imagining yourself three to six months from now.

Not necessarily some perfect version of yourself, but someone who has made meaningful progress.

How do you want to feel physically? What kind of relationship do you want with your body?

Mentally, what thoughts would you like to spend more time with? How would you like to respond when things don't go your way?

Emotionally, what would it feel like to be more grounded, patient, confident, or compassionate?

And spiritually, what would connection or a deeper sense of meaning look like for you?

Allow yourself to experience that version of yourself for a few minutes.

Then consider something else.

What part of me is going to resist becoming this person?

What are the familiar emotions, habits, and thoughts that tend to pull you backward?

You probably already know some of them.

Rather than hoping they won't appear, assume they will.

And decide ahead of time what you're going to do.

For me, today, it was closing my eyes and following my breath for a minute.

For you, it might be standing up and walking outside. Putting on some music. Drinking a glass of water. Changing your environment. Taking a few slow breaths or simply reminding yourself why you started.

It doesn't need to be complicated.

In fact, I suspect the simpler the response, the more likely we are to use it when we're feeling overwhelmed.

The important thing is having something prepared before that familiar pull begins.

Because once we're caught up in an old pattern, it becomes much harder to see what's happening.

And I think this is where a lot of meaningful change actually takes place. Not necessarily during the big moments when we make promises to ourselves, but during those ordinary moments when nobody is watching and we have a choice about what happens next.

One Different Choice

Something I noticed today was how good it felt to recognize that old pattern and not immediately follow it.

It wasn't some extraordinary spiritual experience. I didn't spend an hour meditating or suddenly become immune to distraction.

I took about a minute to breathe.

But that small decision mattered to me because I had done exactly what I intended to do.

I had anticipated the resistance, recognized it when it appeared, and responded differently.

I think experiences like that can gradually build a kind of trust in ourselves.

Each time we interrupt an old pattern, even briefly, we have another experience of being able to choose something different.

And perhaps that's how we begin to create momentum.

Not by expecting ourselves to become completely different people overnight, but by repeatedly making small decisions that align with the person we're trying to become.

Of course, I don't expect to get this right every time. There will probably be days when I get distracted, forget my intentions, or fall back into the same familiar behaviors.

But I also know something now that I didn't always appreciate.

I don't have to wait until I'm caught in the quicksand to figure out how to get out.

I can prepare before I get there.

And tomorrow, when that familiar feeling comes knocking again, I want to see if I can recognize it just a little sooner.

I hope this helps you in your life today.