Why Do We Avoid What Makes Us Feel Good?

It’s one of life’s great contradictions: we know what lifts us, what fuels us, what makes us feel whole – yet somehow we drift away from it. We avoid it, procrastinate around it, or convince ourselves it can wait. And then we wonder why the gremlins in our head get louder.

I’ve noticed this in two areas of my life more than anywhere else: spirituality and productivity. Both give me fuel and steady me. Both keep my thoughts from spiraling. And yet, I can go days or weeks stepping around them instead of stepping into them.

As mentioned in a previous entry, when I’m spiritually connected – whether through prayer, scripture, or fellowship – I feel grounded and feel like I am moving forward. It’s not about being perfect or having all the answers. It’s about being reminded that there’s more to life than my frustrations, more to me than my bank balance or to-do list.

But it’s easy to fall off. A missed spiritual service here, an “I don’t feel like it” there, and suddenly it feels like I’m outside looking in. And the strange thing is, when I’m spiritually low, I don’t rush back to what I know helps. I avoid it. Maybe it’s guilt. Perhaps it’s pride. Maybe it’s the nagging voice that says, You failed, why bother going back now?

Yet the truth is simple: every time I return, I feel better. Every time I reconnect, I wonder why I stayed away. But the cycle repeats because being human means sometimes we resist the very medicine we need.

The same thing happens with productivity. When I’m engaged in meaningful work – such as outreach, writing, or making connections – I feel lighter. Even if the pressures are still there, they don’t weigh as much. My mind stays occupied with purpose instead of gnawing at itself.

But there’s a difference between being busy and being productive. Busy is noise. Productivity is progress. Being busy can exhaust you without feeding you. Productive leaves you tired but satisfied.

And still, I avoid it. I’ll sink into overthinking instead of outreach. I know that action is what brings clarity, that motivation begins once you start, and not before. But sometimes I let inaction steal hours or even days that could be used for outreach. And the thing is, outreach doesn’t really take all that much time. Again, the cycle: I avoid what makes me happy. So why do we do this? Why do we pull away from what we know helps?

Part of it is fear. If I pray, what if nothing changes now or in the future? What if God has shut the door on me because there have been times I’ve been angry and vented at him? If I work, what if the effort still isn’t enough? It’s easier to hover in avoidance than to risk disappointment.

Part of it is habit. It’s amazing how quickly inertia takes over. Miss a spiritual meeting once it feels awkward. Miss it three of four consecutive times, and it feels harder. Stop doing outreach for a week; it feels impossible to restart. The longer we avoid, the heavier the return feels.

And part of it is that small, stubborn voice inside that resists discipline. The part of us that says, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll get serious later. Later, of course, rarely comes.

Here’s what I keep learning and re-learning. The key isn’t waiting for motivation. The key is action. Do the small thing: open the scripture, send the email, write the first line. When I do that, the fog lifts. The gremlins quiet down.

It’s not about building elaborate systems or tracking everything on a spreadsheet. In fact, sometimes that backfires and just reminds me of all the “failures.” It’s about doing the next right thing, no matter how small. A prayer. A note. A pitch.

And when I fall off? The trick is not to waste more time beating myself up. Just step back on, even if it’s clumsy, even if it’s late, because spirituality and productivity aren’t punishments or chores. They’re gifts. They’re what actually make me happy.

Maybe the real lesson isn’t that I “never learn.” Perhaps it’s that I have to keep learning. Life keeps distracting, discouraging, and derailing. My job is to continually return to God, to meaningful work, and to the habits that bring me peace.

Because at the end of the day, the mystery isn’t why these things make me happy. The mystery is why I keep walking away from them. And the answer, I think, is simply that I’m human. Imperfect, flawed, stubborn. However, I’m still capable of returning, starting again, and finding joy in the things I once resisted.