How can you become more of the person you want to be if you have a resistance to change?

Alignment should feel natural, but what if resistance keeps pulling you back?

I am not change adverse; I have a neurodivergent resistance to change that can feel impossible to overcome. Sometimes I can’t welcome in change I actually want or desire.

This is strange because in particular contexts, I am actually highly adaptable.

• I can travel with relative ease, which requires me to adjust, alter, amend.
• I can host a party with limited plans and constant feedback I have to take in, assimilate and respond to without prior warning.
• I can MC an event which requires constant factoring of stage crew, story length and audience engagement.

Neurodivergent Resistance to Change Protocol – Activate!

Yet if dinner plans change, cue neurodivergent resistance to change protocol.

‘I don’t eat burgers, and the place we are going only sells burgers, and I don’t just want a plate of chips because I had that at lunch…’

If the dress I was planning on wearing that day is now itchy, cue neurodivergent resistance to change protocol.

‘You’ve never been itchy before, why are you itchy? Maybe I just need to get used to it, wear it around for a bit… nope, nope nope nope – this is too itchy, get it off, OFF. I’m naked, I can’t wear anything else, it’s all uncomfortable, I’m going to have to go naked. That’s insane, you can’t go naked. It’s cold. Prefer to go naked than itchy.’

Protocol Activated.

Just then, my husband Adam called me from the shops.

“Coles has all their fresh fruit and vegetables on insane specials today, do you want anything special?”

Enter: neurodivergent resistance to change protocol… accessing memory files.  

I am thinking back to my meal plan for the week that took at least half an hour to map out because it’s a different week to usual and I have recently decided I hate all the food I normally eat (just another neurodivergent spice).

Ironically, this week our grocery list only includes green vegetables and carrots – everything else is already pre-made in the freezer. This could not happen during a more inconvenient week unless we were going on holiday.

“Um, blackberries?” I respond.

They are expensive and I rarely get them, I’d love some cheap blackberries.

“No, not that kind of thing.”

He literally just said fruit and vegetables (hello, literal brain here) so now I am confused.

“Normal vegetables, like red capsicum is $5 a kilo rather than $9.50.” He adds.

“We have the meal plan though; I can’t change that in the course of two minutes on the phone.”

My brain is locked in to the meal plan, and my neurodivergent resistance to change makes it nearly impossible to adapt on the fly.

I still would like some of these specials, I think it would be great, but I don’t know what to do with the food or how to plan it into the weeks meals.

“Just get whatever you want, and I will work it out later.” I respond as calmly as I can manage.

“Worst comes to worst, I make soup.”

Even though it is summer and I know I really don’t want soup, or the hassle of making it this week. It’s fine.

I reassure myself that this is not a problem, it is a good thing to get food on special like this and nothing bad will happen because, I have a soup contingency.

But how can I be working so hard to change my life, focusing so much on becoming a better version of myself – more of who I am and less encumbered by the parts of me that make life a struggle, and yet still find change so overwhelming?

Turns out, It’s not about change itself—it’s about preparation, predictability, and emotional readiness.

Why Do I Have Resistance to Change I Ask For?

The problem isn’t just change—it’s that I resist unexpected shifts, even when they align with my goals. Right now, I feel like I have this huge wall up to the universe.

I say in one breath ‘I want to eat more vegetables and fresh produce’, the universe provides bunches on special, and my response is ‘ah… not fresh produce, you’re not in my meal plan, go away!’.

Now I didn’t really put my attention on eating more fresh food this week or anything, but that is the kind of thing that happens. I call something in, and then run from it when it arrives.

So how do I align myself more with who I want and what I want when I have so much resistance to change?

Why Buying a House Felt Different

So why did buying a house feel different? Because I had time to process it.

I still needed some convincing. It didn’t have the back garden I had wanted, it was on the wrong side of the tracks, but it was in the area I loved, close enough to public transport. It was huge – no pokey bedrooms, and the living area was exactly what I want to entertain in.

Also, it was the perfect mix between what Adam wanted; a polished clean home that didn’t need any alterations, and what I wanted, which was a fixer-upper.

The house was perfectly liveable from move in day, but also seriously needed new paint, and there was room for small renovations without needing to rush them. It was as close to perfect as you could get!

What I found too was that it felt in alignment with the life I wanted. I had created this image of my life.

Big changes feel easier when we have time to emotionally and mentally process them—because when neurodivergent resistance to change kicks in, it’s not about rejecting the shift, it’s about needing space to align with it.

I had been building the house of my dreams since I was eight years old on trips in Europe looking at grand estate homes and royal palaces. Obviously my eight-year-old self was going to have gold leafing in her house, and I had adjusted (albeit only minorly since then)!

So, when it came to actually buying a house, although the timeline got pushed from ‘end of next year’ to, ‘in the next six months’ – I didn’t feel too panicked, too rushed, too stressed.

It took some adjustment but I did a few things to acclimate to this new idea.

• Firstly, I mourned the house I was living in. It was only a rental but I loved it, and I was so excited for the mulberry season we would now be missing from the neighbour’s tree.
• Secondly, I talked, I talked a lot. I spoke to Adam all the time about what type of house I wanted, what kind he wanted, how those two would converge. What flooring was important, what layout, what area. We talked about it not so much that we had a clear image, but that we had a clear checklist of sorts with priorities all mapped out.
• Thirdly, I asked Adam if we could start looking at houses we couldn’t buy. I wanted to practice. I wanted to practice with low stakes as if we could buy them (but we knew we wouldn’t get finance yet so there was no pressure).

I wanted to go into these houses and discuss as if we were going to get them. I wanted to disagree lots, to discuss how ‘but I like the garden’ for him to respond with ‘but you spend more time in the house than the garden, and that kitchen is too small for your needs’.

I wanted to practice those back and forth as much as possible so that when it came time to discuss houses we could buy, we could do so without fighting, without having strong and charged emotions. So we could learn how to communicate well with each other about something that we would likely disagree on.

So, buying the house was fine. I felt prepared, I had aligned myself, I had done the work, I had mentally and emotionally practiced and when we were ready to buy a house – it was rather effortless.

This is what I need to do for big changes. I need time and space. I need to weigh it up, wonder, discuss, ideate, explore, disagree, change my mind, change it back. It is like an exploration of a foreign world.

But what can you do when you have less time for that change?

When Change Happens Too Fast: The Car Buying Debacle

Recently, Adam decided he wanted to buy a car. Now my history of car buying isn’t great. Last time he decided he wanted to get a new car; it was during the most stressful six weeks of my life. I was working 12-hour days, stressed out of my mind, miserable and totally overwhelmed. Despite being kind and patient, it just was a lot to handle and I didn’t enjoy the process.

The next time I got a car; I had wanted to enjoy the journey.

When change is rushed, I don’t feel aligned with my decisions, and it creates anxiety rather than excitement.

Well, first week back at work after my holidays – lots of new information, adjustments in my routine, Adam suggested we replace our old car. I’m not really thinking about cars; I’ve got other things on my mind.

He tries to talk to me about it for the space of about a week, but often when I have first got home from work, when my head is in the fridge (literary), when I’m not fully paying attention. His explanations make sense but they also wash over me rather than truly sink in.

I understand it is important to him though, so I suggest we hop in the sauna, no distractions, just us in a little hot box.

I ask him to explain it to me more. He does, it makes sense… somewhat. I explain I have a lot going on but that if he would like me to go see this car, I will go on Saturday with him.

Saying Yes vs. Feeling Ready

I look at the car, I drive the car, it seems great. My concern had been that being an old BMW it may cost lots to fix if anything went wrong with it, but I did think it was lovely. If he thought it was good, I believed him.

Until I didn’t.

Alignment isn’t about saying yes to change—it’s about feeling ready for it.

I realised that I had said yes, essentially because it was shiny (not literary).

He wanted it, justified it and it drove well. But when I thought about it. I didn’t want a new car. I didn’t even know what I wanted. I hadn’t done any of the steps I had done with the house to prepare myself. It had sort of been thrust upon me.

I understand there is a very different price point, a car, a house. But even spending a smaller amount of money, if it is for something that could cost more money, as I am quite risk adverse, it is still a big decision.

I probably didn’t handle the next few days well. I was stressed, anxious, and it kept playing around in my head.

I cried at dinner with my mum and nanny because I didn’t know what to order off the menu. It obviously wasn’t that choice I was struggling with.

I was so overwhelmed by this car business that I actually cried at a restaurant because I didn’t know what to eat.

Finally, sick of my antics, Adam just said it was up to me and he would respect whatever decision I made. I didn’t want this responsibility though. I didn’t want to decide. I wasn’t ready. I felt like I was forced into a decision I never wanted to make in the first place.

It felt like when your parents divorce and you have to choose who to live with. You don’t want to choose but making no choice inadvertently leaves you in the house you are in, with whichever parent stays in that house. So, no choice, is a choice.

I said no.

I still don’t know if I have made the right decision, but I am happy I just hit the breaks (pun intended).

I want to enjoy the choices I make like I did with buying a house. And although Adam will know more because that is his thing, I still want to go through the motions. I want to explore, test drive, ideate, ponder, discuss, disagree. I want to paint a clearer picture, or at least, like with a house, have a better checklist with a tidy priority order.

I have banned Adam from using the ‘C-word’ now for at least a week, as I am somewhat re-traumatised after the last car buying experience and then the stress of this one. I have asked if he can hold off until the end of the year. That way, we can explore it together slowly.

How I’m Overcoming Resistance to Change (And How You Can Too)

I’ve realised I am overcoming resistance to change. I do welcome change, I want it. But I do seem to need longer processing time than others. I want to make sure that how I feel and what I want are in alignment with the decisions I make, otherwise I just feel rotten about them.

It wouldn’t actually surprise me if more people felt like this too.

How often have you bought a dress that wasn’t your usual style, because you wanted to dress more like that style, but then realised that it isn’t your style, nor do you feel comfortable pulling it off. So, it sits there in your closet like a big fat reminder of your inability to wear a sexy slinky style because we all know you are an A-line girl because your thighs are disproportionate… okay… so that’s just me.

But surely there’s that thing in your life that you’ve done too soon and feel a bit icky about?

I don’t want to feel icky. I want to feel totally committed. I want to be excited, I want to enjoy the process, to love the shift, to welcome the change. And it is okay if that takes me longer than others.

What I need to ensure is that just remember to make space for these changes, because by making that effort – I am welcoming in the gifts of the universe.

Every time I test drive a car, see a cool one in the movies and wonder about it, notice an interesting style drive by, I am creating the best possible reality for myself. I am constantly developing my taste, my style, what it is I want. So of course, the universe will present the best possible option at the end of the year, because I have built that car. I have developed and created it in my mind – maybe not with some internal visual image, but with how it needs to feel. 

I am going to stop apologising for taking ‘too long’ to make a decision. My neurodivergent resistance to change isn’t a flaw—it’s part of my process. The more I honour it, the more I realise I’m not just resisting change; I’m shaping it in a way that truly aligns with me.

If you want to know more about what life is like living with neurodivergence, or how you can overcome some of the struggles associated with it? Head over to my YouTube channel.