The truth behind my “laziness” and what I know now

“The strange paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, I can change.” ~carl rogers

I remember sitting on the living room floor one evening while my sons played nearby. One of them was trying to build something with Lego and was getting frustrated every time it fell apart. Now I don’t even remember exactly what he said, I just remember looking at him and feeling it.

Because I suddenly realized the regret inside me.

Not just from that moment, but from most of my life.

The feeling of wanting to do something, sometimes badly, but somehow not being stable within yourself long enough to actually do it consistently.

I called it laziness.

Probably many people did.

As adults, things at home can change quickly from day to day. My father sometimes drank heavily. Sometimes there was tension before he walked through the door. I could feel it in my stomach even before anything happened.

But childhood is a strange thing. I still remember the good things.

Playing soccer with friends on summer nights. I’m watching TV with my brother. Early in the morning, the smell of coffee wafts through the kitchen in front of the school. A mix of mundane moments and perhaps completely out of the ordinary moments.

I think I was confused for years because I didn’t feel like someone who had experienced “real trauma.” I thought my trauma belonged to someone else. People who had it worse.

During that time, my body was constantly reacting to stress, but I didn’t realize it.

As I got older, I started drinking it myself. What followed was a period of drugs, confusion, stupid decisions, and complete feeling of loss, followed by a period when from the outside I looked perfectly fine. That was part of the confusion. I was able to function very well even under pressure at times. Better than many people around me.

But everyday life? A normal routine? A calm structure? It was often difficult.

I was able to stay focused during times of intensity, conflict, urgency, and high stress. But folding laundry, answering emails, staying emotionally present, and doing small, repetitive things every day without running away from distractions felt draining in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone.

And to be honest, I was very embarrassed about it.

Especially after becoming a father.

Because having children changes the way you see yourself. Or maybe it’s more clear. I don’t know.

All I know is that I have had moments where I have reacted too quickly, easily become emotionally overwhelmed, or completely lost motivation and lost myself in my own head. Afterwards, I was sitting there thinking:

For years I thought the answer was discipline. Or lack of discipline.

I thought maybe I should try harder.

But eventually I started reading more about stress, dopamine, motivation, nervous system regulation, and how repeated experiences shape the brain over time. At first, I don’t mean it in an academic sense. In a more desperate way, to be honest. Like someone trying to understand why life seems harder than others.

And slowly, the pieces began to come together.

This is not an excuse. Just understand.

I began to realize that the brain is far more adaptable to its environment than most of us realize. Especially in childhood. When stress, unpredictability, emotional tension, overstimulation, and confusion are repeated over and over again, the nervous system begins to organize around it.

Before you realize it’s happening, you start reacting and living.

I think a lot of adults walk around saying they’re lazy, but what they’re really experiencing is a nervous system that learned survival long before it learned safety.

And just because later life seems more stable doesn’t mean survival patterns automatically disappear.

In some cases, they will pursue you into relationships or parent-child relationships.

To work. For motivation. I’m going to take a break. Learn the ability to sit still without noise, stimulation, food, alcohol, scrolling, conflict, or distractions.

I still find myself doing that.

Especially now, in quiet moments.

What changed for me was not that I became a fully healed person. To be honest, I don’t think life works that way. What has changed is that I have learned to stop immediately turning every conflict into a character flaw.

Now I’m more interested.

What is this reaction? Why does my body go there so quickly? What did my nervous system learn years ago and still think I need?

This change alone has changed the way I raise my children.

Because children are always learning from experience. We feel over and over again not just what we tell them, but how life feels around them.

I think about it a lot now.

I don’t feel guilty anymore. In a more responsible way.

And perhaps that’s the difference.