Survival Mode Kept Me Going — It Also Kept Me Stuck

For a long time, I thought the problem was me.

I looked closely at my choices, habits, and how I acted when things got tough. I kept thinking something was wrong with me. One night, I sat alone in my dim apartment, surrounded by self-help books I hadn't opened yet. The quiet of the room felt overwhelming, and I couldn't stop thinking that everyone else had life figured out except me. I believed that if I could just be more disciplined, motivated, or organized, then things would finally fall into place.

That way of thinking kept me stuck longer than I care to admit.

I wasn't resistant to change; I simply couldn't recognize the patterns that confined me.

When Survival Becomes the Pattern

I learned early on in my life how to survive.

Survival teaches you to push through.

To tolerate discomfort.

To keep going even when something doesn't feel right.

That can look like strength from the outside. And sometimes it is.

But survival thinking has a shadow side. It hardwires you to react instead of reflect. It masks a brittle interior with a facade of strength, misleading others and even yourself into believing everything is under control. You end up going back to what's familiar, even when it isn't healthy. Inside, the cost of maintaining this strong appearance can feel overwhelming, fostering hidden emotions of fear and insecurity that are hard to admit.

By my teens and early adulthood, my life followed predictable loops:

Work harder.

Numb out.

Start again.

Repeat.

I wasn't making "bad choices" because I didn't know better. I was just seeing things in a limited way. Back then, I didn't notice chances to look at things differently. That predictable loop was hampering my growth. For example, I used to see setbacks at work as failures rather than as opportunities to learn. This limited way of looking at things made me sit back and not try new things. How could I have grown with that limited mindset? Now, I see each challenge as a way to grow, a step forward instead of a problem. This change in thinking has helped me move past my old limits.

That was the emptiness I felt. It wasn't about a lack of success or effort, but about a lack of freedom and choice.

The Trap of Programmed Thinking

Most of us don't realize how patterned our thinking is. That really is the crux to overcome.

We assume our reactions are "just who we are," when they're really learned responses shaped by experience, environment, and coping.

Patterns sound like:

• This is just how I handle stress.

• I don't have time to think about this right now.

• I'll deal with it later.

• It's not that bad.

• Other people have it worse.

Those thoughts aren't lies, but they aren't the whole truth either.

For me, these patterns kept me chasing relief instead of growth, comfort instead of clarity, familiar pain instead of unfamiliar responsibility.

Breaking out of that didn't happen through a big decision or dramatic turning point.

It happened when I slowed down enough to notice what was really going on inside me. I started to pay attention to my breathing, which was often shallow and rushed—a sign of the pressure I put on myself. My shoulders were tense, as if I was always bracing for something. After all, vigilance is a condition of survival.

These feelings were small but clear, and they helped me see what needed to change.

The Uncomfortable Question

At some point, I realized something unsettling but straightforward:

I was reacting to life more than choosing how to live it. At first, this realization didn't feel good; it felt uncomfortable and gross. But feeling exposed is a normal part of growing. Many of us feel vulnerable when we start to notice the patterns that have shaped us. This becomes a choice point. Lean into the discomfort of vulnerability, or retreat into patterns. If we lean into these uncomfortable moments, we realize we're not alone and that everyone faces similar challenges as they grow.

Because once you see the pattern, you can't unsee it.

That's where the real work started. I realized that I didn't have to fix myself as much as I needed to get honest with myself.

Asking questions like:

• Why did I respond that way?

• What am I trying to avoid right now?

• What would it look like to respond instead of react, even if it's uncomfortable?

• Is this choice helping me survive… or helping me grow?

Those are not easy questions to answer. They don't bring immediate relief. They often make things feel harder before they feel better.

But they will open up enough space to start making different choices. Maybe not right away, but if you return to them over and over, you will begin to feel the spaciousness they will help you create.

Can You Survive and Thrive at the Same Time?

This is a question I still ask myself.

Surviving and thriving need different skills. Surviving is like carrying a shield to protect yourself from danger. Thriving is like having a compass that helps you explore new things. This difference shows how moving from just getting by to living with purpose is a real journey.

Survival says: Get through the day.

Thriving asks: How do I want to show up in this moment?

Survival clings to certainty.

Thriving embraces discomfort.

Survival repeats patterns.

Thriving experiments with small, intentional change.

I didn't stop surviving overnight. I didn't need to.

What changed was my willingness to pause, not to escape, but to reflect. I began to tune into my 'internal compass,' a term that encapsulated my evolving sense of self-direction and values-based living. Reflection and curiosity became the tools that helped me notice when I could either default to the old response or try something new, even if it felt awkward, slower, or less impressive.

The Choice Point

Most change happens in moments no one else sees, like when you don't interrupt a conversation or A craving you sit with instead of immediately acting on. A recent example that sticks out for me is one afternoon, when I caught myself about to interject during a meeting to prove a point, but I paused. I listened until the end, and what I heard changed my perspective. That slight shift tightened the bond within my team and reinforced confidence in my contributions.

These moments don't feel heroic.

They feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes boring.

Sometimes lonely.

But they are real. In recognizing these instances, consider asking yourself: What is one concrete result I've noticed from changing my patterns? Linking these realizations to tangible outcomes fosters grit and perseverance. They are the places where patterned thinking loosens its grip and choice re-enters the picture. The return on investment for these micro-actions can be enormous over time.

You Don't Need to Become Someone Else

This isn't about reinventing yourself.

It's about accepting where you are without using that acceptance as an excuse to stay there.

You don't need more pressure.

You don't need to be "fixed."

You don't need to know exactly where you're going.

What you need is the willingness to pause long enough to see the choice in front of you. Try a 'two-breath pause': take two deep breaths to ground yourself and create a moment of calm. This simple habit can help you make decisions with greater clarity, allowing you to choose rather than react.

Reflecting on everything from my current vantage point, I realize it was never about a lack of success or effort, but about a lack of freedom and choice. At the start, I believed the problem was me: if I were more disciplined or motivated, life would fall into place, as I saw it happening for everyone else. Now, I've come to understand that by acknowledging my patterns and gradually altering them, I've created a life where I not only survive but also begin to thrive.

It's a continuous journey of embracing small, mindful changes. And as I step forward, I now know: the problem was never me; it was the choices I hadn't yet dared to make.

What small choice will you make today to create the results that you want to see?