On Wanting To Change.

Continuing thoughts on the difference between wanting change and wanting to change.

Let’s talk about what it looks like to change.

This is Part 2 in a 3-part series on change.

• Part 1 tackled a hard truth: we often want change to happen, but don’t want to change ourselves. Read it here.

• Part 2 (this one) asks: what does it mean to truly want change?

• Part 3 will explore what happens to our kids when we don’t teach them how to handle feedback—and why avoiding discomfort is something they learn from us.

So—what does it look like to want change?

That’s the million-dollar question.
Literally.
We’re investing more than ever in mental health.
More therapy.
More coaching.
More tools.

But how are we doing?

Photo by Shubham Dhage on Unsplash

Are we changing—
or just circling the same struggles in nicer language?

🎧 Want more on this? I dig deeper into the pain of real change in Episode 135 of The Joe Martino Show. It’s a conversation about why self-awareness isn’t enough, how we confuse insight with growth, and what it takes to move forward.

Change hurts.
That’s one of the main reasons we avoid it.

Even good change hurts.
Even the kind of change we ask for,
pray for,
beg for—
comes with a cost.

I tell clients often:
All change is loss.
And all loss must be grieved.

That truth alone is enough to keep most people stuck.
Because if the very thing I want—
the change—
is also going to hurt…
why wouldn’t I avoid it?

So when we ask, what does it look like to truly want to change,
we have to start here:

To want change is to accept pain.
Not as punishment—
but as part of the process.

Without pain, there is no change.

Maybe that’s why we so often focus on what others need to change,
instead of looking at what we are willing to change.

Because that’s easier.
Cleaner.
Safer.

But real change? It asks us to wrestle with three questions:

1. What do I want?

2. What am I willing to pay to get it?

3. What am I willing to risk to get it?

It’s those last two that usually trip us up.

We can often name what we want—
or at least what we don’t want.
But that’s not enough.

Change costs something.
And it always involves risk.

Even something as simple as buying a new flavor of coffee comes with a question:
What if I don’t like it?

Sure, that’s a small risk.
But it reflects the bigger dynamic.

This is how we get stuck.

We know there’s a cost.
We feel the risk.

We want a guarantee—
that whatever we pay will be enough.
That the change will work.
That we’ll get what we want and avoid what we fear.

We want assurances that our efforts will work.
That our attempt at change will succeed.
That we’ll be happier on the other side of trying.

And since no guarantee comes, we hesitate.
We stall.
We stay the same.

We beg, berate, and cajole other people to change.

Have you been there?
I have.

So what do we do?

Let’s start with the basics.

Grab your phone, your laptop, or—
better yet—
a sheet of paper and a pen.
(I’m a fan of using lots of pens in different colors, but you do you.)

Now take some time to think about what you want.
Really think.
Then write it down.

Walk away.
Come back.
Add more as the ideas surface.

Don’t rush.
Don’t edit.
Don’t try to make it sound “reasonable.”

What would it actually look like to have it?
What would you look like if it happened?

Here’s my guess:
Most people will struggle right here.

Because naming what we want feels like a risk.

We rarely say it out loud—
because it’s safer to keep it in our heads.
And if saying it is risky?
Writing it down is even scarier.

But—
do me (and yourself) a favor:

Don’t skip this part.

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

Write it down.
Dream.
Hope.

Now let’s move on to the easier part.
(Yes, I said easier.)

Writing down the cost and risk?
It’s actually easier for most people.

Why?
Because our brains are wired to picture pain more vividly than joy.
In fact, researchers say our minds vastly overestimate negative outcomes.

So let’s put that wiring to work.

First,
write down what you believe the cost of change will be.
You’re not deciding whether you’re ready to pay it—
you’re just naming it.
Getting honest about the price is where real clarity begins.

Then, move on to the risks.
Do the same thing.

Once your lists are done, go through them.
What are you unwilling to pay?
Which risks feel like too much?

And—why?

Try to figure out where that hesitation is coming from.
What’s driving you?
What would happen if you did pay?
Did risk?

This is where change begins.
Not with action. (Yet)
But with honest awareness.
Next week, we’ll look at change.
Yes—
that means my three-part series is now at least four parts.