The Cost of a New Life.
Everything comes at a cost—especially change.
As 2024 rolled into 2025, that truth hit me hard.
I’ve left more behind than I ever imagined. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: when we step into something new, we rarely realize how tightly we’re clinging to the old.
Especially the old version of ourselves.
For me, that was the very thing making it nearly impossible to step into who I was becoming.
The reality I came to understand firsthand: our new life will cost us our old one.
That’s not just a poetic way of saying “things will change.” It’s a truth most people resist—because it’s terrifying.
I know.
Stepping into the unknown meant losing the familiar.
Some doubted me. Most gave me the benefit of the doubt and stood beside me.
Personally, it meant shedding an identity I had carefully curated—the one that earned me approval, gave me predictability, and secured me a seat at a table I no longer wanted to sit at.
A lot of folks aren’t willing to pay that price.
They try to negotiate, to reason, to keep one foot in the old life while dipping a toe into the new. They hope for transformation without disruption.
But real change comes at a cost.
Comfort is expensive.
It costs us growth. It costs us opportunity. It costs us the chance to become who we’re meant to be.
We stay comfortable because it’s easy. It’s the well-worn couch that sags in all the right places. It’s the friend group that never challenges us. It’s the job that drains us but pays the bills. It’s the relationship that’s run its course but keeps dragging on.
Leaving that comfort isn’t about chasing discomfort for its own sake. That’s not the goal. It’s about recognizing that comfort is often the very thing keeping us stuck.
Psychologists call this the comfort zone fallacy—our tendency to choose the safety of the known over the uncertainty of growth.
And trust me, the new won’t feel comfortable at first.
But over time, we build a new comfort zone—one aligned with growth, purpose, and momentum.
I also learned another hard truth: if we try to be liked by everyone, we’ll end up resenting ourselves.
We settle. We shrink back.
Most people spend their lives managing other people’s expectations. They soften their edges, dilute their opinions, and stay inside the lines drawn for them.
They prioritize being liked over being real.
But the moment we start making real changes, some people won’t like it. Some will misunderstand. Some will feel threatened because our choices force them to question their own.
And that’s okay.
The right people—the ones meant for us—will meet us on the other side.
When we stop trying to be liked, we make space to be loved for who we truly are—not for the version of ourselves we perform for others.
And here’s the thing: when we step into something new, people will struggle to make sense of it. They’ll remind us of who we used to be. They’ll question our choices. They’ll wonder why we can’t just stay the same.
But making them understand isn’t our job.
Our job is to keep moving forward—especially when it’s lonely, when it’s uncertain, and when we’re the only ones who can see the road ahead.
And then something incredible happens.
Instead of being understood, we become free.
The right people—the ones who recognize our growth and celebrate our evolution—show up. And we don’t have to convince them. We don’t have to explain.
They just see it.
So what do we actually lose when we choose a new life over the old one?
We lose what was built for a person we no longer are.
And that’s not a loss. It’s a release.
We let go of expectations, limitations, and the old stories on repeat. We release the people who were never really in our corner, the roles that no longer fit, the labels that were never truly ours.
And what do we gain?
Alignment. Clarity. Freedom. Peace.
The kind of momentum that can’t be stopped—because it’s fueled by something deeper than approval.
It’s fueled by purpose. It’s fueled by hope.
So yeah, change will cost you. I know that firsthand.
But staying the same? Playing small?
That will cost you even more.
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Steve Knox | Houston, Texas
\\\ This post was inspired by a text my brother sent me half a year ago. I hope it hits you the way it hit me. Share it with your circle of friends. Thank you for reading. Until next week. Be honest. Be you. And, don’t be afraid of stepping into the new.