The Long Game

Why real change takes time

Here we are again. That blurry void between Christmas and New Year has passed, leaving some of us already tired, while others are hopeful and oddly determined...and yet.

Winter practically begs us to slow down, eat something warm and comforting, and sleep like we mean it. And yet, somehow we’ve collectively decided it’s the perfect time to launch full-fledged self-improvement campaigns while the rest of the natural world is in the throes of hibernation.

Statistics vary, but most New Year’s resolutions don’t make it past January. Fewer people bother setting them in the first place, and even fewer manage to keep them through the year, and most of us know that going in.

So why do we bother? Why are we so obsessed with becoming a different, better version of ourselves? I think we cling to hope that we aren’t stuck and that we are in control of our destiny. Even though we know that old habits are hard to break, and new ones even harder to tackle, we keep reaching, trying to chisel the ice while it’s snowing. Shave off the winter weight, smoke that “last” cigarette, cut back on dairy, buy all the pretty motivational planners, and so on. Maybe it comes from wanting to feel like enough. To feel worthy of love, attention, devotion, and respect. To feel better about ourselves, or, let’s be honest, better than other people. No pressure!

Resolutions tend to fall apart when we expect them to change our lives overnight. And the same goes for any so-called healing work - ayahuasca retreats, meditation, yoga, whatever it may be. You show up thinking you’re going to come out like a shiny new penny, and then life says, “Hold my beer.” Old habits, old fears, all the baggage you swore you’d left behind...they all show up like unwelcome relatives. And somehow, in the middle of that messiness, there’s a kind of dark humor to it all.

You might feel like you’ve failed, but more often, you’re just in the middle of a bridge. Remember those rickety rope bridges you’d play on as a kid? Your foot slips through here and there, or maybe you’ve just gotten distracted thinking about what to have for dinner, and it’s a little scary trying to balance.

At the beginning of the month, I, like millions of other people who apparently hate fun (just kidding, kind of), dove headfirst into Dry January. It was going great. I even went to a double wake held in a local bar. Two Diet Cokes and a couple of non-alcoholic beers later, I thought, Well, this is no problem at all! If I can survive that, surely I could go a whole month without drinking, right?

Then, I met a good friend for tacos, ordered a spiked iced coffee made with horchata and Mexican Fernet, and immediately sipped half of it down before I even remembered that I’m not supposed to have alcohol for 30 days. Didn’t even cross my mind! And that’s the imperfect nature of change. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and occasionally hilarious in a way that only makes sense later.

People show up to retreats expecting a miracle. Instant clarity. A before-and-after Instagram shot. Instead, the first night usually dredges up old insecurities and regrets right to the gut (literally). It’s like traveling alone to some foreign country to “find yourself” and losing your passport, or ending up with the worst food poisoning of your life. Not exactly the personal transformation you had in mind.

This is the part that rarely makes it into the photos. You’re halfway across that metaphorical bridge. You’ve purged, cried, meditated, maybe laughed at how absurd it all feels. You’re not finished, and you’re definitely not on solid ground yet. But sitting in this uncomfortable middle? This is the work. An ayahuasca retreat won’t magically fix your life, just like resolutions don’t.

Ayahuasca, like any meaningful change, plays the long game. The insights you gain, the shifts you notice...they aren’t instant, they’re earned over time, even when the bridge sways under your weight.

A few tools for when you feel stuck in the messy middle:

Track tiny wins, not perfection. Start noticing tiny shifts: a breath that’s easier, a reaction that’s softer, a craving that’s no longer automatic. Those are the victories that last, not the grand “I’m a new person now” moments.

Find humor in failure. You’ve spilled the coffee, missed the meditation, and eaten the taco you swore you wouldn’t. Laugh at it. Shame shuts down growth; humor keeps you moving.

Celebrate half-way victories. You don’t need to cross the bridge to acknowledge progress. Take note of the slippery spots, the gusts of wind, and observe how far you’ve come.

Journal reflections. Notice the roadblocks or internal dialogue that keep coming up. Treat it like data collection. It’s all just information about the bridge and how you can best navigate it.

It’s true, you might have deep spiritual insights or powerful visions during an ayahuasca ceremony, but the medicine doesn’t erase old patterns, and neither does January 1st. The bridge doesn’t disappear when the retreat ends, or when Dry January inevitably trips you up. You stay the course and continue through the wobbly middle, and step by step, just keep moving. Forget about last year’s mistakes or next month’s anxieties. Just keep showing up. That’s the long game.