The moment you stop being the storm
“You can’t change what you won’t look at.”
I don’t remember who said it first, but I remember the first time it landed in my body—and how clearly it showed me the link between awareness and change. I was sitting in my car after a difficult conversation, replaying every sentence, feeling my chest tighten and my jaw lock. Part of me wanted a better script, a new communication strategy, a way to “fix” what just happened. But underneath all of that, something quieter was happening: I was watching myself spiral.
In that moment, I wasn’t just angry or ashamed. I was aware that I was angry and ashamed. And that tiny shift—from being inside the storm to noticing the storm—was the beginning of a different life.
In my work as a mindfulness coach, Irena Golob, I see this pivot point again and again. People often imagine change as a dramatic decision: the day you quit, start, leave, commit. Yet the real turning point is usually small and unglamorous.
It sounds like:
- “I’m noticing I’m already defending myself in my head.”
- “I’m noticing I’ve opened the fridge three times and I’m not actually hungry.”
- “I’m noticing the ‘I’m not good enough’ story is playing on repeat.”
That sentence—“I’m noticing…”—is not minor. It’s the beginning of authorship.
Why awareness and change start with your next choice
Psychologists call it metacognition—thinking about thinking. In mindfulness, we often call it the Observer Self: the part of you that can witness thoughts, emotions, and body sensations without immediately obeying them.
Instead of being fused with a thought (“I am a failure”), you begin to recognize it as a mental event (“I am having the thought that I am a failure”). That single reframe isn’t a cute affirmation; it’s a practical intervention—what Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) calls cognitive defusion.[^1]
Here’s why it matters. When you’re fused with your thoughts, your brain tends to default to old circuitry: the Default Mode Network (DMN) (often linked with rumination and self-referential thinking) and the amygdala (your threat detector) take the wheel. In 2026 life—constant notifications, pressure to perform, endless comparison—this can mean your body runs stress chemistry even when the “danger” is a calendar reminder.
When you step into awareness—when you notice, “Worrying is happening,” or “Self-criticism is here”—you recruit more of your prefrontal cortex (PFC), the part involved in planning, impulse control, and emotional regulation. Research suggests consistent mindfulness practice is associated with structural and functional brain changes, including reduced DMN activity and increased gray matter density in regions linked to attention and regulation.[^2]
Awareness isn’t a mood. It’s a skill. And awareness and change go together—because skills can be trained.
The trap: confusing awareness with suppression
This is where many sincere people get stuck: they try to use mindfulness to get rid of thoughts and feelings. But awareness is not suppression.
Suppression sounds like: “Stop thinking that. This is bad. I shouldn’t feel this way.” It’s tight, judgmental, and rooted in resistance. And the paradox is that suppression often makes the thought louder. (Try not to think of a pink elephant and see what happens.)
Observation sounds like:
- “I notice a wave of anger.”
- “I see the ‘I’m behind’ story again.”
- “Anxiety is here.”
There’s space. Curiosity. Maybe even a bit of kindness. You’re not blocking traffic; you’re sitting on a bench watching cars pass. The cars don’t vanish, but they also don’t run you over.
From this place, you can act in alignment with your values even when difficult thoughts are present. That’s what real freedom looks like day-to-day: replying to the email without spiraling, having the conversation without armoring up, eating without needing perfection, resting without guilt.
As Irena Golob often reminds clients: you don’t have to like what you notice to benefit from noticing it—that’s the quiet engine of awareness and change. Awareness doesn’t demand immediate fixing—it offers a clear starting point.
Simple practices that make awareness usable in real life
If this is going to matter, it has to work beyond a quiet cushion. Here are three doorways I teach because they’re practical, fast, and surprisingly powerful.
Use “I’m having the thought that…”
When a harsh thought appears—“I’m so behind,” “I always mess this up,” “No one cares”—add one phrase:
- Step 1: “I am having the thought that I’m so behind.”
Want to deepen it?
- Step 2: “I’m noticing that I’m having the thought that I’m so behind.”
Yes, it’s clunky. That’s the point. You’re inserting space between stimulus and response.
Name the story (and let it be a story)
When a familiar loop shows up, label it:
- “Ah, the ‘not good enough’ story is back.”
- “Hello, catastrophe planning.”
- “There’s mind-reading again.”
You can even make it playful—imagine the thought in a cartoon voice. Not to mock your pain, but to de-literalize it. The mind loves drama. Awareness refuses to treat every mental headline like breaking news.
Try “noting” for 3 minutes
Set a timer for 3 minutes.
- Anchor attention on the breath or feet on the floor.
- Each time the mind wanders, label gently: “Thinking.” “Planning.” “Worrying.” “Remembering.”
- Return to the anchor without scolding yourself.
This looks like nothing, but it’s the kind of small repetition that makes awareness and change possible. Internally, you’re training the capacity to notice distraction and choose where attention goes. Over weeks, it spills into daily life: you catch the urge to check your phone, the first tightening before an argument, the early whisper of a craving before it becomes automatic.
If you want a structured way to build this discipline, you can explore resources on my Website, especially if you’re working with stress patterns that feel entrenched.
“I’m noticing I’m about to react.”
That sentence creates the gap where your future can live.
This is for informational purposes only and not a substitute for professional advice. Consult a qualified expert for personal guidance.