The Missing Link Between Awareness and Real Change.

Self-awareness isn’t enough. Noticing your habits doesn’t change them — observing yourself in action and choosing differently does. That’s where lasting change begins.

Self-awareness is noticing your patterns — consistently staying late at work, repeatedly hitting the snooze button, or reaching for that glass of wine after a long day. Self-observation is more active. It’s like sitting in the audience, watching yourself on the movie screen of your mind. You know exactly what’s going to happen, and even though you’ve seen the ending before — and know it’s not in your best interest — you carry on anyway.

The truth is, knowing that you’re self-sabotaging doesn’t automatically mean you’ll step in and course-correct. You can see the pattern, predict it, even narrate it to yourself — yet still keep pressing play. Why? Because the pattern feels familiar, and familiarity is safe. Or perhaps you don’t yet realise there’s a kinder, more empowering alternative.

It’s time for a new movie.

Interrupting the pattern.

When you decide you really want to change, it begins with interrupting the script. Not forever, not perfectly — just in the moment.

If you usually hit the snooze button, get up. If you usually leave the office after 7 p.m., leave at 6 p.m. If you usually reach for wine, make tea instead.

Will it feel nice? No.

Will it be comfortable? Definitely not.

Will you enjoy it? Maybe. Maybe not.

But this isn’t about comfort — it’s about disrupting what’s automatic so you can create space for something new.

And here’s where the skill of self-observation comes in. But instead of only watching the behaviour, watch the commentary: the self-talk, the chatter, the critic. Because often, it’s not the fridge, the snooze button, or the late nights keeping you stuck — it’s the voice in your head giving the directions.

Insert the pause.

Let’s take food, since it’s such a common struggle. If you find yourself drifting toward the pantry after dinner, pause. Before you open the cupboard, catch the thought that preceded the action.

Is it a command: “Go get something now.” Or a coaxing whisper: “Come on, you deserve it.”

Look deeper. What’s the real trigger? Anger? Loneliness? Stress? Boredom? Exhaustion?

Now pause again. Sit in the craving. Notice it. Allow it. And wait. Because here’s the powerful truth: cravings pass. They are thoughts, not commands.

And in that moment, you reclaim choice.

Choose your own adventure.

Like the books many of us loved growing up, you get two possible storylines.

Option A: You follow the craving. The chocolate tastes amazing — until it doesn’t. The crash is accompanied by feelings of resentment, guilt, and shame. You promise yourself never again … until the next time.

Option B: You walk away. You read a book, talk to your partner, or simply go to bed early. This time, the “ending” is different. You wake up proud, lighter, and with evidence that you can do hard things.

Neither path is wrong. But each comes with a consequence. And the more often you consciously choose Option B, the more you rewire your brain to associate it with real pleasure — not deprivation.

Are you “allowed” to enjoy treats? Absolutely. But make them conscious choices from a place of power, not an escape from pain.

Curiosity and compassion.

But what about when you fall off track? Not if — when. Because you will. We all do.

And this isn’t pessimism; it’s human nature. Under stress, we default to the familiar.

The shift lies not in perfection, but in how you respond afterwards. Instead of spiralling into self-loathing, bring in two tools: curiosity and compassion.

Curiosity says: What triggered me? Was I tired, overwhelmed, hurt, lonely? Did I forget to put myself on the calendar this week?

Compassion says: This doesn’t make me weak, broken, or bad. It makes me human. And humans need care, not criticism.

Curiosity helps you learn. Compassion helps you move forward without guilt. Together, they transform “failure” into feedback.

Because often, the real issue isn’t a lack of discipline — it’s self-neglect. The craving isn’t just for food, or wine, or scrolling — it’s for rest, love, or attention. When you see it this way, you can shift from breaking promises to yourself to finally keeping them.

Final thoughts.

Self-awareness alone won’t change your life. Self-observation paired with action, curiosity, and compassion will.

Change doesn’t begin with dramatic declarations; it begins with a single interruption. One moment of choosing differently. One pause before the old script takes over. One act of kindness towards yourself when you slip.

The real power lies in remembering: every choice is a chance to write a new ending. You are not the pattern. You are the director. And the movie only moves forward when you decide to call “Cut.”

Here's to new patterns, one micro choice at a time.

Warm wishes,

Lori