There comes a point in life when the ways we have learned to cope no longer seem to work as they once did. We may find ourselves repeating the same reactions, worrying about things beyond our control, anticipating difficulties before they arise or withdrawing from situations that make us uncomfortable. We might recognise that these responses are making life harder, yet still find ourselves returning to them. This can be confusing. If we know that a particular behaviour is unhelpful, why is it so difficult to change?
The answer may lie in understanding what these behaviours were originally designed to do. Many of the coping strategies we struggle with today began as attempts to manage experiences that once felt overwhelming. They may have helped us navigate uncertainty, protect ourselves emotionally or find some sense of stability when life offered very little. The difficulty is that a strategy developed to protect us can eventually become something that restricts us. And when we begin to let it go, we may discover that we are giving up more than a familiar habit.
Understanding the purpose of our coping strategies
Our ways of coping are often shaped by our earlier experiences, particularly those in which we felt vulnerable, uncertain or unable to influence what was happening around us. Consider a child experiencing their parents’ divorce, repeatedly moving schools, emotional abuse or an unpredictable home environment. They may have little understanding of what is happening and even less control over the circumstances. They cannot necessarily change the situation, influence the adults around them or prevent further disruption. Yet children are remarkably resourceful in finding ways to manage their emotional world. They may become particularly watchful of other people’s moods, try to anticipate problems, avoid drawing attention to themselves or work hard to keep everyone happy.
These responses can develop into coping strategies that offer a degree of psychological safety. If I can predict what might happen, perhaps I won’t be caught off guard. If I keep everyone happy, perhaps there will be less conflict. If I prepare for disappointment, perhaps it won’t hurt so much when it comes. The strategy may not change what is happening, but it can provide a sense of influence over an otherwise uncontrollable situation. As we grow older, these responses can become automatic. We may no longer recognise them as strategies at all. They simply become the way we think, behave and respond to the world.
The strange comfort of familiar patterns
One of the more surprising aspects of changing our behaviour is discovering that we can become attached to patterns that cause us considerable distress. For example, someone who regularly catastrophises may recognise how exhausting it is to imagine everything that could go wrong. They may understand that their thinking is disproportionate to the situation, yet still feel compelled to anticipate the worst.
Why?
Part of the answer may be that catastrophising provides a sense of consistency. It is a familiar mental process, something the person knows how to do. Anticipating difficulties can also create the impression of being prepared, as though thinking through every possible problem might prevent them from being overwhelmed by an unexpected event.
When we begin to question this strategy, we may encounter an unexpected feeling. What would it be like not to anticipate the worst? What would happen if I allowed myself to approach a situation without mentally rehearsing everything that could go wrong?
The prospect may feel strangely unsettling. This is because we are not simply giving up a habit of thinking. We may be relinquishing a familiar way of organising our experience and managing uncertainty. Sometimes we hold on to an old coping strategy not because it makes us feel better, but because we don’t yet know how life will feel without it.
Worry: trying to manage fear
Worry is another important part of this picture. Although we often use the words fear and worry interchangeably, there is a useful distinction between them. Fear is an emotional response to a perceived threat. It can alert us to danger, help us recognise something that needs attention and prepare us to respond. Worry, however, often takes that fear into the future. We begin imagining what might happen, considering possible outcomes and mentally rehearsing difficulties that may never arise. Worry can become a way of managing fear without having to experience it directly.
I look at worry as fear stripped of courage. Not because worrying is a weakness, but because it can keep us occupied with anticipating what might happen rather than finding the courage to face what we are actually feeling. We may tell ourselves that if we think through every possibility, we will be better prepared. If we anticipate rejection, we won’t be so disappointed. If we consider every potential problem, nothing will take us by surprise.
Yet there is a difference between preparing for something that requires our attention and repeatedly imagining situations over which we have little or no control. Worry can give us something to do when we feel powerless. But it can also keep us trapped in a cycle of anticipation, preventing us from experiencing the present. Sometimes, when we look beneath the worry, we find something much more vulnerable: a fear of abandonment, a fear of failure, a fear of losing control or the possibility of experiencing disappointment and hurt.
The therapeutic work is not simply to stop worrying. It is to understand what the worry is protecting us from and gradually develop the confidence to meet the underlying fear.
When the outside world reinforces our fears
Our personal anxieties do not develop in isolation. We live in an environment where news and social media provide a constant stream of information, much of it presenting potential threats, conflict, uncertainty and crisis. Some of these concerns are very real and deserve our attention. However, the repeated exposure to alarming stories, dramatic headlines and predictions of impending difficulties can leave us feeling that danger is everywhere.
This can be particularly influential when the information connects with fears we already carry. Someone who experienced considerable instability growing up may be especially sensitive to news about economic uncertainty or social disruption. Someone who has experienced abandonment may find stories about relationship breakdown particularly unsettling. A person who has felt unsafe may be more likely to interpret threatening information as confirmation that the world is unpredictable.
The external event may be real, but the intensity of our emotional response can also be influenced by our personal history. This can create a reinforcing cycle. We encounter something alarming, it activates an existing fear, and we seek more information in an attempt to understand or reassure ourselves. Yet the additional information may intensify our anxiety, prompting us to check again.
Being informed about the world is not the same as living in a constant state of apprehension about it. It is worth asking ourselves whether our consumption of information is helping us understand and respond to the world, or whether it is feeding a cycle of worry that leaves us feeling increasingly powerless.
Why letting go can feel harder than holding on
When we begin to recognise an unhelpful coping strategy, it is tempting to assume that understanding it should be enough to change it. But intellectual understanding and emotional change are not the same thing. We may know that constantly seeking reassurance is damaging our relationships, yet still feel compelled to ask whether everything is all right. We may recognise that people pleasing is leaving us feeling resentful, yet struggle to say no. We may understand that catastrophising is increasing our anxiety, yet find ourselves returning to the same thoughts whenever uncertainty arises.
This is because the behaviour is often connected to an underlying emotional need. If reassurance has become a way of managing a fear of abandonment, reducing reassurance seeking may bring that fear closer to the surface. If overworking has become a way of maintaining a sense of worth, slowing down may bring feelings of inadequacy into awareness. If pleasing others has helped us avoid rejection, expressing our own needs may initially feel threatening. In other words, when we interrupt the familiar behaviour, we may encounter the very feelings it was helping us avoid.
This is an important part of the therapeutic process. It helps explain why changing an established pattern can sometimes feel harder before it feels easier. It does not necessarily mean that we are going backwards or that we are doing something wrong. It may mean that we are beginning to experience something differently, without immediately reaching for the familiar response.
Of course, this does not mean that every uncomfortable feeling should be pushed through or that every coping strategy should be abandoned. Some responses are still protecting us from genuine difficulties.
Understanding the difference between a present-day threat and an older learned response is an important part of the work.
What happens next in therapy?
Therapy offers an opportunity to explore these patterns with curiosity rather than judgement. Instead of simply asking ourselves how to stop a particular behaviour, we can begin by asking what purpose it serves.
When did I first learn to respond this way? What was happening in my life? What did this behaviour help me manage? What am I afraid might happen if I stop doing it?
These questions can help us recognise the connection between earlier experiences and present-day reactions. They can also help us understand that behaviours we may have come to dislike in ourselves often developed for understandable reasons. From there, the work gradually shifts towards developing different ways of responding. This might involve learning to tolerate uncertainty without immediately seeking reassurance, expressing a need without feeling responsible for everyone else’s reaction, or allowing ourselves to rest without believing that we must constantly prove our worth.
It also involves recognising the feelings that arise when we begin to change. Rather than automatically escaping discomfort, we can learn to pause, notice what is happening internally and consider what we actually need. This is not about forcing ourselves to be courageous or dismissing our fears. It is about developing the emotional capacity to experience uncertainty without allowing it to dictate every decision.
Over time, we begin to discover that we can feel anxious without immediately catastrophising, experience disapproval without abandoning our own needs, and face difficult situations without relying on the same protective responses. We start to develop a different kind of security: one that comes less from anticipating and controlling everything around us, and more from trusting our ability to respond to what life brings.
Learning to live differently
Letting go of an old coping strategy is not simply a matter of deciding that it no longer serves us. It involves understanding why we needed it, recognising the fears beneath it and gradually discovering that we have other ways of managing our emotional experiences. We may never reach a point where we feel entirely free from worry, fear or uncertainty. Nor do we need to. These are part of being human. What can change is our relationship with them.
We can learn to distinguish between a fear that is alerting us to something that needs attention and a familiar anxiety that is asking us to repeat an old response. We can become more comfortable with not knowing exactly what will happen, without feeling compelled to prepare for every possible outcome. Perhaps the most significant change is discovering that we no longer need to organise our lives around avoiding the feelings we once found so difficult to manage.
The aim of therapy is not simply to remove the coping strategies we have developed, but to help us understand them, recognise what lies beneath them and develop the confidence to respond to life in new ways. Sometimes, the next step in our personal growth begins when we recognise that the things we once needed to survive are no longer the things we need in order to live well.
How counselling can help
If you recognise some of these patterns in yourself, counselling can provide a space to explore where they may have originated, what they are helping you manage and why changing them can feel difficult. Through this process, you can begin to develop a greater understanding of yourself, build self-trust and find new ways of responding to the challenges of everyday life.
If you would like to explore this further, you can find out more about my online counselling sessions.
Collette O’Mahony November 2026
I offer Free 15-minute introductory sessions. The introductory session is simply a chance for us to meet, talk about what you’re looking for, and see whether you feel comfortable with me and the way I work. There is no expectation or pressure to make any decisions during the session.