“Why can’t I just do the things I know I want to do?”

Tell me if this sounds familiar:

You resolve to make a change for the better in your life. Maybe to walk more. Or to stop drinking. Or to pick up that breathwork habit again.

You tell your partner about it. You put your resolution in writing. You actually make the change.

It works. It feels good! You’re happy about it. Your partner is thrilled.

Then you backslide.

Why? Are you some kind of slob who has no willpower?

Biology tells us: not necessarily. Backsliding is a universal experience.

Every one of us resists significant change, no matter whether it’s for the worse or for the better.

Our body, brain, and behavior have a built-in tendency to stay the same within rather narrow limits, and to snap back when changed—and it’s a very good thing they do! Ultimately, your nervous system doesn’t care about your good intentions. It cares about keeping you alive.

Just think about it: if your body temperature moved up or down by 10 percent, you’d be in big trouble. The same thing applies to your blood-sugar level and to any number of other functions of your body. So your system is constantly keeping track of what’s changing and adjusting as necessary.

This condition of equilibrium, this resistance to change, is called homeostasis. 

Often, when we want to make a change, we expect ourselves to… just do it. But if we ignore the pull of homeostasis, we end up blaming ourselves when change doesn’t stick. The real opportunity is to learn how to work with this force, rather than trying to bulldoze our way through it.

So here are a few ways I use to befriend homeostasis, applied to breathwork, but just as useful for any change you’re trying to make.

Why a daily breathwork practice feels harder than it “should”

When you sit down for 10–15 minutes of breathwork (no phone, no stimulation, just you and your breath) you’re essentially pushing against ‘cognitive homeostasis.’

Just like the body regulates temperature, your mind regulates its “optimal engagement set point.” If your brain is used to constant stimulation (scrolling, email, conversation, podcasts), then sitting still can feel like a threat to equilibrium.

The brain interprets the absence of novelty as boredom and pushes you back toward more familiar inputs (even if you rationally know that’s not what you want to be doing.)

So when you feel restless or “itchy” in those first few minutes of breathwork, it’s not proof that something’s wrong with you or that the practice “isn’t working.” It’s literally your cognitive homeostasis trying to pull you back to its familiar set point.

But wait, it gets even more interesting!

There’s also such a thing as anticipatory homeostasis.

Your brain is a prediction machine, and will make predictions based on past experiences. If your brain has learned that breathwork = boredom/discomfort, it will pre-resist the practice before you’ve even sat down.

It predicts that breathwork will drop you below your normal stimulation set point. So, before you even begin, it sends discomfort signals (annoyance, “I don’t want to,” “I’ll do it later”) to push you away.

The system isn’t reacting to the reality of breathwork. It’s reacting to a learned association. If the recent memory is “sitting still = boredom,” the brain encodes that as a negative prediction and tries to steer you away.

For me, half the battle is simply knowing this is happening. When I notice resistance and frustration, I observe these sensations in my body and I remind myself: “this is just my nervous system protecting its status quo, not a sign that I can’t change.”

How to use neuroscience + behavioural science to make a change that sticks

(1) Anchor it in purpose

Purpose works like a regulator: when discomfort comes up, purpose helps you tolerate it rather than snap back.

At the start of our work together, I ask clients to set clear goals, e.g., “I’m doing this to improve my ability to stay composed under stress, so I can be a better leader.”

Or “I’m training my body to reset more quickly after work, so I can be present with my family.”

Repeat this purpose before every session. You’re literally reminding your nervous system why it’s worth riding out the resistance. You’re reframing the practice from “boring stillness” to “mission with meaning.”

(2) Work with incremental change

Homeostatic reinforcement learning shows that behavior feels more rewarding when it stays close to an internal set point. If you stretch too far too fast (like aiming for 30 minutes of breathwork right away), the gap feels uncomfortable and the system pulls back.

So, start very small. 5 minutes a day. Once that becomes your “new normal,” extend to 10, then 15. By nudging the set point gradually, you reduce the homeostatic snap-back.

(3) Reframe boredom as a signal, not a failure

Research shows boredom is not a flaw. It’s simply a signal that your brain has slipped out of its optimal engagement zone.

When boredom comes up, treat it as proof you’re re-training your set point. A simple response is to shift attention slightly (from chest movement to nose sensation, or from breath rhythm to body tension release). Small adjustments restore engagement without abandoning the practice.

And just keep reminding yourself. I repeat this in my head as I notice the boredom: “This is normal. I’m moving away from my internal set-point. Just sit with the discomfort and keep going.”

(4) Savor the wins, however small they might seem

One of the most powerful ways to make breathwork stick is not just doing it, but savoring the moment after.

Notice how your body feels, the mood that’s there, even the quiet pride of having done it. Take a few seconds to mark it.

Why? As we said, your brain is a prediction machine. It learns from past experience and uses that to inform your present experience. If it only remembers the discomfort of starting, resistance will always show up. But if you remind it of the reward, you re-train your system to expect calm, focus, and satisfaction instead of boredom. Over time, resistance fades and the practice becomes something you look forward to.

There you go. Four simple tips I’ve been using for myself and my clients to build in a daily breathwork practice. Something that can be incredibly difficult to do but is so rewarding and powerful once you can make it stick.

I’m curious: did any of this change how you think about making a change in your life? Does it explain some of the patterns you’ve noticed in yourself?

And most importantly: what’s one thing you’re taking away from this, and how could you apply it to a change you’re working on right now?