The truth about change: Why it’s a journey, not a quick fix scheme

Let’s be honest—there’s no magic pill, affirmation, or overnight solution that’s going to transform your life. Sure, you might experience bursts of motivation or fleeting moments of clarity, but they’re often short-lived. The truth is, meaningful change comes with challenges: moments of relapse, feelings of stagnation, and the frustration of not seeing immediate results.

Here’s the thing: change doesn’t reveal itself right away. You won’t see the impact of your effort until you’ve stayed the course long enough to become the change. Think about this: you hit the gym, push through a tough workout, then look in the mirror expecting slimmer lines or more defined muscles. And what do you see? Absolutely nothing. That inner critic jumps at the chance to whisper (or shout) the same negativity it always does.

But here’s the pivotal moment. Instead of indulging the critic, you cast it aside. You move forward.

The key to breaking the cycle is recognizing this: when you listen to that critical voice, you let your doubts take over. You retreat into old narratives—I can’t lose weight, I’ll never find someone, I’m not cut out for success. These thoughts halt your momentum, anchoring you in low-energy emotions like guilt, shame, and self-doubt.

And just like that, your current reality wins.

But this is the cycle you must break.

Old habits, old thought patterns, outdated beliefs—they’re the software running your life. And like a computer, you need an update. That update comes when you put yourself out there in new ways, embracing new behaviors and thoughts. But here’s the catch: sometimes the old software fights back, fragments of it causing setbacks. The install doesn’t fully complete, and you’re stuck buffering.

This is life: buffering to the next version of yourself. Slowly but surely, if you remain consistent and committed, the update will install. You’ll wake up one day and notice—you’ve changed. Not because you wanted it, but because you worked for it.

And that’s the real part: change requires effort. The work you put in determines the results you’ll achieve. Starting small might feel slow and methodical, but it’s the foundation for the transformation you want. These small steps build consistency and show you what’s possible.

Over time, what once felt like effort becomes second nature—ingrained in your habits. That’s when you’re ready to take the next step, perhaps a more challenging one. And again, with persistence, you adapt and grow.

Eventually, the person you’ve become will no longer recognize the version of you that started this journey. Through consistent effort and hard work, you’ll have shaped the change you set out to achieve.

Hope’s Journal:

The rain was always cold, wet, damp thing. Even in the summer. I never quite got the hang of it, and God forbid I walk or dance in it. My black hair hid secrets—oh, so many secrets, even from myself. And if it got wet, I would become enraged. Those secrets didn’t need to be washed away. The web of lies I told myself kept my fake persona of perfection and “nerd” wrapped up neatly. I didn’t need the rain to come and ruin the layers of filtered beauty I’d carefully crafted just to be liked. I was already cold—the bone-chilling kind.

In my twenties, I was a recluse. Hiding behind long tufts of black hair and a wall of anger, completely unaware of anything except the rain. The rain was a reminder of how unclean I felt, a reminder of the storm constantly brewing within. I built a perfect wall from others and from myself, coasting on autopilot, an expert in the mundane.

I was a solo act—thoughtless, broken, and unwilling to speak. Desperation was my comfort zone, and it was palpable. I was a shell of a person, and I remained this way until my early thirties. All throughout this, a small light—tiny, like a flicker—kept me going. Call it my future self, a higher power, or God. It spoke so softly, whispering something I could never hear. With the storm constantly raging inside, nothing could be heard except the howling chaos. But there it was, guiding me to never give up, to never end it all. And trust me, there were plenty of moments I almost succumbed to the call of eternal sleep.

But something began to take shape. The jagged stone, once cast with sharp edges and rough surfaces, began to change. Little by little, the chisel found my hands, and I began to carve out a face, a torso, a body. The dark blob slowly disappeared. As I honed my mind through self-help books, therapy, and deep inner work, my hands found sandpaper to smooth away the rough edges. Over time, I became marble wrapped in silk—my own masterpiece, created from the torment of my past, the traumas and obstacles of a shattered soul. Every person a mirror to me, showing me the unspoken secrets I needed to face. And face them I did. Whether through repetition or force, I saw myself and didn’t like what I had been choosing.

And every time I thought my masterpiece was complete, a new wave of secrets would flood me, unveiling themselves in ways I never saw coming. Every secret I had hidden was now an accomplishment, carved into me, reflected in my eyes as they began to see. I was already a perfect masterpiece, and what I had been chasing was the ability to see myself through the entirety of the process. In all the shapes and colors, in all the moments—no matter how “ugly” or “beautiful”—I was enough. It becomes breathtaking when you finally see your own secrets and hear, at last, the whispers that guided you through the dark: “I love you.”

This journey is not meant to be done at anyone’s pace but your own. You arrive exactly when you’re meant to. Look back and marvel at all you’ve achieved, all you’ve become, all you’ve gone through, and remember that underneath it all is just love. The real work is remembering how to love yourself. Change comes when you slowly carve yourself out, allowing yourself to be seen fully, genuinely, and wholly.