Why Change Feels So Hard Even When You Know It’s Time

In this episode of the In Full Power Podcast, Jasmine Conway talks about what it feels like to stay in situations, roles, relationships, jobs, or versions of yourself that you already know you’ve outgrown.

After a turbulent flight to Orlando, Jasmine reflects on the moment the pilot said the plane would rise above the clouds to find a smoother ride. That moment became a powerful reminder: sometimes the answer is not to keep trying to make the turbulence easier. Sometimes the answer is to change your altitude.

Jasmine shares a personal story about staying in a stressful work environment that felt like “a toxic relationship with someone that’s paying my bills,” and unpacks why we stay even when we know something is costing us too much. She explores three reasons change can feel so hard: familiar discomfort can feel safer than unknown peace, surviving can become part of who we think we are, and the climb asks us to trust ourselves before we have proof.

This episode is for anyone who has been trying to make the wrong thing work, calling stress normal because they’ve learned how to function in it, or wondering if it’s time to finally choose something different.

If you’ve been feeling drained, stuck, afraid to leave, or unsure whether you’ve outgrown a certain level of your life, this episode will help you name the turbulence and take one honest step toward rising.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

So a few months ago, I was on a plane heading to Orlando, Florida to run my first ever half marathon. And the flight is started off like any other flight. I was sitting there with my headphones in and I was listening to music, trying to calm myself down because I have a little bit of flight anxiety. And takeoff is one of the parts that stresses me out because I had read somewhere that over 50% of fatal accidents happen during either takeoff or landing. And so now every time the plane starts speeding down the runway, I'm bracing myself. And so I'm sitting there as we're about to take off, the plane starts climbing and I'm gripping the arms of the chair and I'm waiting to feel the plane finally level out. And eventually it does. And when it does, I'm like, okay, whew, we're cruising now. I can relax. And then a little bit later, there's this big bump, and my whole body tenses up. And then comes the ding. You know, the ding, the one that reminds the passengers to keep their seatbelts on. So now I'm back on alert. I'm sitting up a little bit straighter. My hands go right back to gripping the arms of the chair, and a few more bumps come. And I start looking around and I'm checking other people's faces. Like, are they calm? Should I be calm? Does the flight attendant look concerned? And then the pilot comes over the speaker and he says, We're running into a little bit of turbulence right now as we make our way through the clouds. But once we start flying above the clouds, it'll be a smooth ride. And that's what I want to talk about today. Hello, my powerful people. This is the Info Power Podcast, and I'm your host, Jasmine Conway. Today we're talking about why we stay in turbulence even when we know we're not meant to stay there. Because the pilot essentially said, we are going to rise above this. And once we get to a higher altitude, things will smooth out. And that hit me because I realized something. The pilot was not asking the turbulence to change. He was changing the level we were flying on. And I think that is where so many of us get stuck in life. Instead of changing levels, we try to make the same level feel better. We make peace with things that are clearly not working anymore. We work around it. We try to explain it. We try to breathe through it. And we tell ourselves that it's not that bad and that we can handle it. But deep down, we know. We know when something is costing us too much. We know when something no longer fits. We know when we've been trying too hard to make the wrong thing work. And we know when the level that we're flying at no longer works. And I know that feeling because I've lived it. There was a season in my life where I was in a work environment that felt very stressful for me. And I don't mean just busy. It was the kind of stress that I could feel in my body before the day even started. And I would wake up already bracing myself for the day. And I was performing, producing, responding, adjusting. While there was this part of me that kept whispering, this is not where you're supposed to stay, Jasmine. It is time to go. I knew it was time for me to leave, but I didn't do it immediately. And I remember one day, I closed my laptop and I was just sitting there. And the thought that came to me was, this feels like a toxic relationship with someone that is paying my bills because that's what it felt like. There was a paycheck there, there was a version of safety there, but there was also tension and there was dread. And there was this constant feeling of trying to make something work that was making me feel less like myself and less like the woman that I know I was called to be. But it took me a while to make that decision because I knew that if I left, it was going to require something of me that I wasn't fully ready to give yet. It was going to require courage. It was going to require me to trust myself and the honesty to stop confusing my ability to get through something with the proof that I was supposed to stay in it. And that's the part that we don't always talk about. Sometimes the hardest part of changing your life is not recognizing that something is wrong. Sometimes the hardest part is admitting that the thing that is wrong has become normal to you. And what feels normal can feel safer than what feels like freedom. And so that's what I want to name today. Not just the fact that we stay, but why we stay. And I think that there are three reasons that we stay in turbulence even when we know better. First, familiar discomfort can feel safer than unknown peace. Second, surviving can become part of who we think we are. And third, the climb asks us to trust ourselves before we have proof. And as we walk through these today, just pay attention to the one that feels the most familiar. So the first reason we stay in turbulence is because that familiar discomfort can feel safer than unknown peace. This is about what we're used to. Even when something is draining you, there might be a part of your mind that says that you at least know how it works. And that was me. I knew that environment. I knew how to succeed there. I was familiar with that kind of stress. But leaving meant stepping into something that I had not fully done before. It meant choosing a life that had more freedom, but it also had more uncertainty. And it also meant walking away from something predictable, even if that predictability was costing me my peace. And this might be you if you know that something is draining you, but the thought of doing something different feels too scary. So that's the first reason we say, not because it feels good, but because it feels familiar. But sometimes it goes deeper than familiarity. Sometimes we don't just know the turbulence. Sometimes we build pride around surviving it. And that is even harder to walk away from because now you're not just walking away from a situation, you're walking away from a version of yourself that knew how to survive there. And that brings me to the second reason we stay in turbulence. The second reason we stay in turbulence is because we confuse surviving with who we are. This is about pride, about strength, about being the one who can handle it. Sometimes we stay because we have become attached to who we are in the middle of the stress. And for me, I become attached to being the person who pushed through, the one who could figure it out, the one who could handle pressure, the one who didn't quit, or the one who didn't walk away. And when you've built pride around your ability to survive, leaving can feel like some sort of failure. Even when leaving is the wise thing to do, even when leaving is necessary, even when leaving is the most powerful choice available to you. Because if you're used to being the strong one, it can be hard to admit that something is too much. If you're used to being the dependable one, choosing yourself can feel selfish. And if you're used to being grateful for the opportunity, negotiating can feel like you're asking for too much. And that's why leaving can feel so complicated. That's why rising can feel so complicated. Because sometimes we're not just afraid of losing the job, the relationship, the role, or the approval. Sometimes we are afraid of losing the version of ourselves who knew how to survive there. But the version of you that survived the turbulence may not be the same version of you that can lead you into the life that you want for yourself. I'm gonna say that again. Sometimes the version of you that survived the turbulence may not be the same version of you that can lead you into the life that you want for yourself. And that is hard to accept because that version of ourselves, it protected us once. It helped us make it this far. But at some point, the thing that once helped you can also be the thing that starts to hold you back. And this might be you if you keep staying, because leaving would make you feel like you gave up. So first, the turbulence is familiar. Then surviving becomes part of who we think we are. But even when we see both of those things clearly, there's still one more reason we stay. And that's because leaving the turbulence does not just require us to walk away from something, it requires us to walk towards something that we can't fully prove yet. And that is where the climb gets real. So the third reason we stay in turbulence is because the climb asks for faith before proof. This is about becoming, about uncertainty, about trusting yourself. Because leaving didn't just mean leaving for me. Leaving meant becoming someone I had not fully been yet. It meant becoming a full-time entrepreneur. It meant betting on myself, making decisions without guarantees, and trusting a version of myself that I had not fully met yet. And all of that required a level of energy, of courage, clarity, and trusting myself that felt expensive. It felt very expensive. And if I'm being honest, there were moments where it felt easier to stay in something that drained me than to step into something that would demand more from me. And that's the part about altitude. We talk about elevation and growth like it's always light and beautiful. But the climb can be uncomfortable and lonely. And it can make you question yourself. You may have to let go of habits that once helped you feel safe. You may have to make the decision before you feel ready, before you have the proof, before you have the perfect plan, before everyone understands. And that can feel so freaking scary. Because the climb, it's not just about getting out of turbulence. It's about becoming the kind of person who no longer builds their life around surviving it. And this might be you if you want something different, but you're scared of what it might require from you. And when you put all of these three things together, it starts to make sense why change can feel so heavy. It's not just the situation, it's the familiarity of it. It's the role that you've learned to play in it, the uncertainty of what comes next. And that's why we can know better and still stay. That's why we can feel ready for something, something that we know is better and still hesitate. And that is the real truth. And I think a lot of people are here not because we're weak or we're we're confused, not because we need one more sign, but because the turbulence is familiar. Surviving has become part of who we think we are. And the climb, it feels expensive. So we stay. We stay in jobs that drain us because at least the paycheck is predictable. We stay in versions of ourselves that we've outgrown because at least we know how to be praised there. And we call it being responsible, being patient, being realistic. But sometimes, sometimes it's fear. And I say that with compassion and not judgment because fear is human. Fear makes sense. Fear is trying to protect you, but fear cannot run your whole life. So let's take a second to make this practical. Because changing your altitude, it doesn't always mean just blowing up your whole life. It doesn't mean that you need to quit the job tomorrow or end the relationship in one conversation. You may not need to move cities or launch the business. Sometimes the climb is just saying no without writing a full dissertation about why. Sometimes it's telling the truth in a relationship, even if you know that the truth will change the dynamic. Sometimes it's applying for the opportunity that you keep talking yourself out of because you feel underqualified. Or sometimes the altitude might look like just admitting that I have outgrown this. And maybe even harder that you can be grateful for what got you here and still be honest that it cannot take you where you're trying to go. You can be grateful for what got you here and still be honest that it cannot take you where you're trying to go. Because that's the part we miss. Outgrowing something, it doesn't mean that it was always bad. It doesn't mean that it never served a purpose. It doesn't mean that you were wrong to choose it in the first place. It just means that the level that once worked for you may not work for the life that you're building now. And yes, that can feel scary. It can feel scary and uncertain and uncomfortable. It can feel like you're making the wrong decision just because you don't feel calm while you're making it. But that discomfort is not always a warning. Sometimes the discomfort is the feeling of your life stretching beyond the limits that you used to live inside. Sometimes discomfort is the feeling of your life stretching beyond the limits you used to live inside. So altitude is not just about having a better life. It's about having a more honest life. It looks like being in spaces where you don't have to beg to be valued. It's doing work that stresses you but doesn't make you lose yourself. And more than anything, altitude is being able to hear yourself again. Because when you've been in turbulence for so long, everything gets loud. The overthinking gets loud, the proving, the fear, the need to explain yourself. It all gets loud. But altitude, reaching new altitudes, it gives you your hearing back. You start to hear your own voice again. And once you can hear yourself clearly, it becomes harder to keep flying at the level you know you're not meant for. So maybe the turbulence you're feeling is not always a sign that you need to try harder. Maybe the turbulence is not asking you to keep adjusting yourself to survive at that level. Maybe the turbulence is information. It's a signal that's saying this level no longer works for the life that you are trying to build. So if you've been wondering why it's so hard to leave the level, to leave spaces that you know you've outgrown, it might be one of three things. Maybe the discomfort is familiar. Maybe surviving has become part of who you think you are. Or maybe the climb is asking you to trust yourself before you have proof. But whichever one it is, the invitation is the same. Stop asking the turbulence to become peaceful and start asking whether you're being asked to rise. Operating in full power is not waiting until you feel ready, not waiting until the fear disappears, not waiting until every single detail makes sense. It's not waiting until everyone understands your decision. Operating in full power is deciding that your life will no longer be led by what feels familiar when familiar is costing you your peace, your clarity, your confidence, and your power. At some point, you have to stop calling the turbulence normal just because you've learned how to function in it. At some point, you have to stop asking, why is this happening? And start asking, why am I still here? And not with shame or judgment, but with honesty. Because the life you want may not require you to fight harder at the same level. It may require you to rise, to change your altitude. So this week, I don't want you to just think about this episode. I want you to do something with it. Name the turbulence. Name the place, the pattern, the relationship, the role, the opportunity, or the version of yourself that you already know no longer works. And then choose one climb, one honest conversation, one boundary, one email, one application, one decision where you say, I'm not gonna keep surviving at the level that it's time to rise above. That is the work that is operating in full power. If this resonated with you, share it with another powerful person who needs to hear it. I'm Jasmine Conway. This is the In Full Power Podcast. I'll talk to you next time.