Most people say they’re afraid of change. A new job. A new relationship. A new version of themselves. But if you look closely, change itself isn’t the real threat.
Loss is.
Psychologists call this loss aversion—the idea that losing something feels about twice as painful as gaining something new feels good. The brain is wired to protect what it already has, even when what it has is no longer serving it. That wiring explains why staying stuck often feels safer than moving forward.
Familiar discomfort is easier to tolerate than unfamiliar possibility.
When you stay in a situation you’ve outgrown, it’s rarely because you believe it’s good for you. It’s because your mind is calculating what you might lose: stability, identity, approval, certainty. The brain frames these potential losses as immediate threats, while any potential gains feel distant and abstract. So hesitation masquerades as logic.
This is why comfort zones are so deceptive. They aren’t always comfortable—they’re just known. The predictability of discomfort feels safer than the unpredictability of growth. Over time, this creates emotional stagnation. You don’t move forward, but you also don’t move back. You simply stay full of what you no longer need.
Lao Tzu warned against this thousands of years ago: “It is better to leave a vessel unfilled, than to attempt to carry it when it is full.” A life overloaded with fear, attachments, and outdated versions of yourself becomes heavy. You can’t move easily when you’re carrying everything.
Letting go isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a skill. It’s the willingness to create space where clarity can exist. Growth doesn’t always require adding something new; sometimes it requires subtracting what’s no longer aligned.
The moment you understand loss aversion, fear loses some of its authority. You stop asking, “What if I lose?” and start asking, “What is this already costing me?” Stagnation has a price, even if it doesn’t show up immediately.
Change isn’t asking you to destroy your life. It’s asking you to release what’s weighing it down.
And once you see that, moving forward doesn’t feel reckless—it feels necessary.
TheSpiritualExplorer 