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Whenever I try to change myself for the better, I start out all super excited. An example: On January 5th, I started eating as prescribed by Dr. Joel Fuhrman in his book Eat to Live. I’m basically living on vegetables, fruit, beans, nuts, and seeds. The first week, I was off-the-charts gung-ho. Since Thanksgiving, I had basically been stuffing myself with as much yummy, unhealthy crap as I could fit in my mouth, and suddenly switching to the cleanest diet I’ve ever eaten felt great both physically and mentally. Not only did my extra holiday pounds start falling off my body, I also felt ridiculously proud of myself.

Now, a few weeks later, I have to admit it’s not quite as easy. I haven’t succumbed to temptation, and I still feel really good and proud, but it’s not as much fun. I’m getting a little bored with greens! I’m still seeing results, which is wonderful and totally keeping me motivated. But the joy that was bursting out of me a few weeks ago is definitely more off-and-on now. And the old habits that I’m trying to let go of are poking up their little heads, whispering to me about French fries and ice cream and other lovely things with which I have had long and delicious relationships. I’m not so worried about falling off the wagon—my commitment to getting healthier than I’ve ever been is strong!—but sometimes I feel discouraged, and I wish I were excited instead.

It’s the same thing with The Sunny Way, and, in a broader sense, with trying to create the future. I go through phases where nothing brings me more joy than sharing my own sense of responsibility and optimism with as many people as possible. And then there are other times when I look at an empty screen and think, “Nothing I write is going to change anything. Why even bother?” And then I want to curl up inside myself, maybe with a stack of DVDs or a bowl of pasta or something even less wholesome, and veg out.

As a younger woman, the desire to veg out pretty much ruled my life. I would come home from work and flop down with my favorite addictions all arrayed around me and, before I knew it, it’d be time to go to bed. Then I’d get up and go to work and start the whole cycle over again. I got some stuff done—I fronted a band, I ran a crafting business—but for the most part, my desire to lay around and enjoy myself trumped everything else. Every so often, I’d get a hankering for something different—I fantasized about getting a pickup truck and driving around rural areas out west, hooking up solar panels—but I never did anything with these ideas. The world felt immovable, which made me immovable, too.

The last few years have been a process of consciously working to shift these patterns. I’ve had some success, but there are still plenty of days when the important items on my to-do list go undone, when I dip a bucket into my well of inspiration and hear it scrape against the dry stones at the bottom. Usually this happens when I’m run down or bored with my routine. I start to feel entitled to a little fun, a little indulgence, and so I indulge.

The funny thing is that half the time this indulgence in the pursuit of hedonistic pleasure doesn’t even bring me any! It’s not that guilt gets in the way of my enjoyment—it’s more that these indulgences on a very basic level are not good for me. And at this point in my life, I can no longer pretend that drinking a bunch of vodka or eating a bunch of chocolate cake or ignoring what I know to be true—that we are all co-authors of the future and that it’s up to us to write a good story—makes me feel good. The fact is that behaving in this way makes me feel awful. We talked about this a few weeks ago: what used to be the subject—“I’m just the kinda girl who likes to party and enjoy myself”—has become the object—“I want my life to be about more than partying and enjoying myself.”

But if I realize this, if I can clearly see my destructive behaviors for what they are, then why do I allow them to continue? Is it because I spent so many years laying those ruts into my brain? Is it really just habit? Or is it something deeper—maybe I’m afraid of the responsibility of taking care of myself? And if doing what I know is right in my personal life is scary, then taking responsibility for the entire future has got to be just plain TERRIFYING.

The truth is that it doesn’t matter one bit why I fall into old patterns. All that matters is that I try not to, and when I fail, I hoist myself back out of the old ruts. It’s easy to do the right thing when I’m feeling good and strong. But when I’m not feeling sunny is when it’s most important to turn my face toward the sun, toward the goal and the path that I know I’m here to learn and talk and write about.

So how can this be done? Obviously, I’m still in training ... but here are some things that help:

1) I reach out to others who have the same goals and ideals. Even one good conversation can help lift me up.
2) I take some time alone to re-orient myself. I might read a favorite book or article—here’s a good one—or sing or write in my journal. Often it’s just enough to acknowledge that I don’t feel strong but that I want to do the right thing anyway.
3) I meditate. If my thoughts are making me crazy, then it’s worth it to try to let go of them for a while.
4) I remind myself of past successes. I’ve already given up most of my addictions most of the time. Success in the past gives me confidence in the now.
5) I remember that humans have free will. Inertia is a choice, as is eating everything that’s not nailed down, drinking myself into a stupor, or watching an entire season of The Wire in one weekend. I’m always free to make better choices. Always. Seeing the situation like this makes it about freedom more than deprivation. How dare my addictions think they have power over me? I’m a free woman. I can do what I want. And what I want is full-on awesomeness, not a blunted, stunted, limited-to-my-couch version of what’s possible.

How do you cut off a relapse into bad habits? How do you get yourself pointed in the right direction? How do you live up to what you know to be true? Please share your ideas in the comments—I can use all the help I can get!