What Changes When You Stop Avoiding the Thing You Don’t Want to Face

Author: Leading and Love
Published: February 1, 2026

Self-Care


There’s a moment most of us know well: you’re busy—productively busy—yet something inside you feels tight. You can’t quite name it, but you can feel it. And instead of turning toward it, you turn up the volume of life. Another task. Another scroll. Another late night “just to catch up.”

Avoidance can look like ambition. It can look like service. It can even look like leadership.

But inside, you know: there’s a thing you don’t want to face.

Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s a strained relationship. Maybe it’s an addiction to approval. Maybe it’s a financial reality. Maybe it’s the truth that you’re tired—deeper than sleep can fix.

Self-care isn’t only candles and quiet music. Real self-care is the courage to face what you’ve been dodging.

Avoidance Has a Cost

Avoidance isn’t neutral. It taxes your body and your marriage.

When we avoid, we carry background stress all day long. We become more reactive. We have less patience. Our empathy shrinks. We snap at small things because we’re holding a big thing alone.

In marriage, avoidance can quietly erode trust. Not because you’re “bad,” but because the unspoken becomes a third presence in the relationship. Your spouse can feel it—something is off. And without transparency, they may fill the gap with assumptions.

Avoidance also feeds burnout. You can’t rest when something inside you is unresolved. Your mind keeps running—even when you’re sitting still.

Avoidance is often linked to overcommitment, as discussed in Too Busy to Talk: When Overcommitment Crowds Out Connection.

What Changes When You Face It

When you stop avoiding, you don’t instantly feel better—but you start getting free.

You move from fog to clarity.
From coping to healing.
From isolation to connection.
From constant tension to a growing sense of balance.

Facing the thing doesn’t make you fragile. It makes you whole.

Five Gentle Steps Toward the Thing You’ve Been Avoiding

  1. Give it a name.
    Avoidance thrives in vagueness.
    Try: “I’ve been avoiding my resentment.”
    Or: note, “I’m scared about our finances.”
    Or: “I don’t know how to process what happened.”
    Naming is not dramatizing. Naming is leadership.

  2. Locate it in your body.
    Where do you feel it—chest, stomach, throat, shoulders?
    Your body often knows before your mind admits. Paying attention is a form of compassion toward yourself.

  3. Choose one honest conversation.
    If you’re married, consider sharing the headline: “There’s something heavy I’ve been avoiding, and I want to let you in.”
    You don’t need perfect words. Vulnerability is not a polished speech—it’s a door opening.   


    Growth follows honesty, a truth reflected in The Work Beneath the Work: Identity Healing for Legacy Builders.

  4. Take one small action that matches reality.
    If it’s a health issue, book the appointment.
    If it’s relational, schedule the talk.
    If it’s a work situation, ask for help or set a boundary.
    Self-care is often a humble act of discipline.

  5. Practice forgiveness as you go.
    You may feel embarrassed that you avoided for so long.
    Offer yourself kindness: “I did what I knew to do. Now I’m choosing better.”
    Forgiveness is not denial—it’s release.

The Marriage Benefit

When you face what you’ve avoided, you become more available. Your spouse gets the real you, not the defended you. Communication becomes clearer. Intimacy becomes safer. Unity strengthens because you’re no longer carrying hidden weight.

And your leadership changes too. You make decisions with more courage. You respond instead of react. Your vision steadies because you’re not burning energy on internal resistance.

Facing discomfort builds trust, echoing lessons from Learning to Trust: Moving Beyond Micromanagement to Protect Your Team—and Yourself.

A Different Kind of Strength

Strength isn’t the absence of fear. It’s choosing truth in the presence of fear.

If there’s a thing you don’t want to face, start small. But start. Peace rarely arrives by accident. It’s built—one honest step at a time.