Monthly Musing: On Action...

As January draws to a close, I have found myself reflecting on the past month. What has stood out for me most is that I have been more motivated into action than I have previously been. Those little jobs around the home that I have been putting off have finally been getting done. I’ve eventually got round to the glow up of my website - something that has been sitting on my mental to-do list for quite some time now - and there has been a general sense of being more on top of things than I have been.

This Monthly Musings addition to my website has also been on my mind for a while.

So… action.
I’ve technically had the choice to do these things for some time, so why now? What has shifted? What has moved me into action at this point?

That question has led me to think more about the relationship between choice and action.

In my work, we often talk about choices - about children making the ‘right choices’, and those ‘right choices’ leading to positive action. But sometimes, making the right choice is a luxury which the human brain is simply not capable of offering. After all, it’s a conscious process.

For children who have experienced adversity, trauma or unmet attachment needs, the subconscious will often trump the conscious every time. When the nervous system is under stress, the brain’s priority is not decision-making, but survival. In those moments, behaviour is less about choice and more about coping. About surviving. 

And of course, this doesn’t only apply to children.

When we feel overwhelmed, pressured or stretched - particularly in a world that values pace, urgency and productivity - our own capacity for conscious, reflective choice can reduce too. We move faster. We react rather than respond. Or sometimes, we freeze and struggle to move at all.

Understanding this does not mean that actions are without impact. When behaviour is driven by a neurobiological response rather than a conscious, rational decision, there are still consequences - for the individual and for others around them. The difference is not whether consequences exist, but how they are held. When responses are rooted in understanding rather than judgement, consequences can become containing and reparative, rather than punitive or shaming.

Seen through this lens, both action and inaction begin to make more sense.

There are times when slowing down is not avoidance, but a necessary pause - a way of allowing enough space for the system to settle so that action can come from a more grounded place. What has struck me this month is that much of my inaction has been taken with less guilt than before. There has been plenty of it - choosing not to push, not to respond immediately, not to fill every space - and yet I have felt more productive, not less.

Perhaps because that inaction has created room. Room for energy to return. Room for decisions to land more easily. Room for action to emerge without force.

For me, this month has felt like one of those moments.

Not because I suddenly cared more, tried harder, or made ‘better’ choices - but because the conditions felt right. And perhaps that is something worth paying attention to, both in our work with others and in how we treat ourselves.

As I move into the rest of the year, I’m less interested in action for action’s sake, and more curious about the relationship between action and inaction - and what helps make both possible, without guilt.