Benthall Adventures — A Slow Travel Journal

Benthall Adventures — A Slow Travel Journal

Your Brain on Newness

Why change feels exhausting — and what actually helps

Benthall Slow Travel's avatar
Benthall Slow Travel
Jan 01, 2026
∙ Paid
A bathroom mirror with the words “You’re allowed to be new here” written in pink lipstick.

The hardest part of change isn’t the decision.

It’s the stretch afterward — when you’ve already let go of the old thing, but the new one hasn’t started to feel like yours yet.

That’s the part people rarely warn you about.

Not the fear.
Not the doubt.

The fatigue.

Most of us assume change feels hard because we’re second-guessing ourselves.

But in my experience — both personally and professionally — the discomfort usually comes from something quieter:

Your system hasn’t gotten enough feedback yet.


Why even good change can feel wrong

Your brain’s primary job isn’t happiness.

It’s prediction.

Familiar routines, roles, and environments quietly do that work for us. They tell the brain what happens next — without us noticing.

Change removes those shortcuts.

Even when the change is right.
Even when it’s chosen.
Even when it’s well thought through.

So when you retire early, change careers, move cities, or redesign your days, the brain has to work harder just to orient itself.

And effort, to the nervous system, feels like risk.

That’s why uncertainty is exhausting even when nothing bad is happening.
Why beautiful places can feel oddly unsettling.
Why people who made the “right” choice still feel on edge.

The brain doesn’t care that you planned this carefully.
It cares whether it can predict the next five minutes.

When it can’t, it turns the volume up.


The mistake most advice about change makes

Once you understand this, the solution stops being emotional reassurance and starts being structural.

You don’t need to convince yourself the change was right.
You need to give your nervous system faster feedback.

That’s the part most advice skips.

It tells you to tolerate discomfort now in exchange for a promise later — that clarity, ease, or confidence will eventually arrive.

But biology doesn’t work on promises.
It works on signals.

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