The Things We Avoid and the Things We Ache For
We all have something we've been meaning to deal with.
The email we haven't opened. The text message we haven't replied to. The work project that has been sitting in the corner of our desktop for months. The difficult conversation. The bank statement. The decision.
Sometimes it can feel as though there's a monster under the bed. We suspect it's there. We can hear it scratching around in the dark. But as long as we don't look directly at it, perhaps it can't hurt us.
So we keep our heads down. We busy ourselves elsewhere. We tell ourselves we'll deal with it next week, next month, when things calm down.
But whatever it is hasn't disappeared simply because we haven't looked at it.
And often, that's where the exhaustion begins.
What Are We Really Avoiding?
The thing itself is not always the problem.
The unopened envelope might only take thirty seconds to open. The email could take five minutes to answer. The phone call might last less time than we've spent worrying about it.
What we're often avoiding is how we expect we'll feel.
Shame. Guilt. Disappointment. Regret. Anxiety. Self-doubt.
It's rarely just the task.
Many of us tell ourselves we're avoiding something because we're busy, and to be fair, that's often true. Life can feel relentless. There are school runs and deadlines, caring responsibilities and life admin, work demands and household logistics. We are trying to keep a lot of plates spinning at once.
The journalist Brigid Schulte describes modern life as being made up of "time confetti" — little scraps of time scattered throughout our days rather than long stretches of uninterrupted space. We might have five minutes here and ten minutes there, but not the emotional energy needed to climb the hill of something that feels difficult.
So we choose the easier path.
We check our phones. We reorganise the kitchen drawer. We watch another episode. We answer easier emails first.
For a moment, we feel relief.
But avoidance often comes with a hidden cost.
The thing remains. The emotional energy it requires remains. The quiet hum of guilt or dread remains.
And so we find ourselves carrying it around with us anyway.
When Avoidance Isn't About Time
Sometimes the issue isn't that something feels difficult.
Sometimes it's that it no longer matters.
We can spend months trying to motivate ourselves towards something that simply isn't aligned anymore. A commitment we've outgrown. A goal that belonged to a previous version of ourselves. A project that no longer reflects what we value.
In those moments, avoidance may not be a sign that we need more discipline. It may be information. A gentle indication that something needs revisiting, revising or perhaps even releasing.
Of course, the opposite can be true as well.
Sometimes we avoid something because it matters deeply.
The novel we want to write.
The business idea we can't stop thinking about.
The course we'd love to take.
The conversation we know we need to have.
The dream that feels so important that we become afraid to touch it.
If it stays in our imagination, it remains perfect. Once we engage with it, it becomes vulnerable to disappointment, rejection or failure.
Avoidance and fear tend to keep each other company.
What Helps When We're Stuck
One thing I've noticed is that the things I avoid often become enormous in my imagination.
The task expands. The conversation grows. The consequence becomes catastrophic.
Then I finally look at it and discover it was far smaller than I'd made it.
Not always easy. But smaller.
I've found it helpful to stop asking, "How do I finish this?" and instead ask, "What would fifteen minutes look like?"
The writer Maggie O'Farrell once spoke about writing one of the most painful scenes in Hamnet. Rather than forcing herself through it, she would write for ten minutes, walk around the garden, and then come back. Ten minutes at a time.
Sometimes courage looks less like a leap and more like a series of tiny returns.
I've also found self-compassion matters more than self-criticism. When we're already struggling with something, adding shame rarely helps. Instead, I try to remember that avoidance usually makes sense.
There is often a reason I'm hesitating. A fear. A wound. A protective instinct.
Sometimes I find it helpful to imagine speaking to myself the way I would speak to a friend:
"I know this feels difficult. I know why you're avoiding it. But we'll be okay. Let's take a look together."
Finally, I've learned to notice when avoidance moves beyond procrastination and becomes something else entirely.
There are times when avoidance can be connected to anxiety, depression, burnout or emotional overwhelm. The world becomes smaller. Opportunities narrow. Relationships drift. We stop participating in our own lives.
If that's where you find yourself, it's worth treating that experience with curiosity and care rather than judgment and getting the support that you need to help you move through this.
On the Other Side of Avoidance
On the other side of avoidance sits something else. Wanting.
Not wanting in the consumer sense. Not the endless message that we should always be striving for more.
A different kind of wanting.
The quiet question: What do I actually want?
It sounds simple, but many of us struggle to answer it.
We're often very clear on what needs doing. What is expected of us. What other people require from us.
But what do we desire? That's harder.
Perhaps because wanting can feel indulgent. We learn early that practicality is admirable. Responsibility is admirable. Self-sacrifice is admirable. Wanting can feel frivolous by comparison.
And yet some of the most meaningful parts of life begin there.
Because I want to learn a new instrument.
Because I want to travel somewhere I've never been.
Because I want to spend more time with friends.
Because I want to make things.
Because I want to.
The aviator Amelia Earhart famously answered the question of why she flew across oceans with this simple statement:
There is something wonderfully freeing about that. Not because every desire should be followed. But because sometimes wanting itself is enough..
Following the Threads of Aliveness
I've come to think of wanting as a signal. It points us towards what feels alive. Towards connection. Creativity. Curiosity. Joy. Meaning. Play.
Many of us spend so much time coping that we forget to ask what brings us pleasure.
What delights us.
What energises us.
What makes us feel more like ourselves.
And yet these questions matter. Not because they solve our problems. But because they remind us we're more than our responsibilities.
More than our productivity.
More than our to-do lists.
There is a life beyond coping.
And sometimes our longings help us find it.
What Are You Avoiding? What Are You Wanting?
Lately I've been wondering whether I'm spending more energy keeping things at bay or moving towards what matters.
Perhaps that's the question I'm leaving with you too.
What are you avoiding? And what are you wanting?
Sometimes the things we're avoiding contain important information. So do the things we're longing for.
One points towards what feels difficult, uncertain or unresolved.
The other points towards what feels meaningful, alive or true.
Neither needs to be fixed immediately. But both deserve our attention.
Explore Emotions Coaching
If you're finding yourself stuck in patterns of avoidance, overwhelmed by difficult emotions, or unsure what you want next, emotions coaching can help you slow down and make sense of what's happening beneath the surface.
Together we'll explore what you're feeling, what's driving your reactions, and how you can respond with more clarity, self-trust and choice.
Because sometimes the next step isn't about pushing harder. It's about understanding what's really going on.
Find out more about emotions coaching and book a discovery call.