Haruki Murakami’s routine is a model of discipline. He wakes before dawn, sitting down to write first thing in the morning, when his focus is at its sharpest. After a few hours of work, he runs—every day, or nearly every day. He returns home, spends time on lower-concentration tasks, and then winds down in the evening with books and music. He goes to bed early, and ready to do it all over again.
It’s an admirable rhythm, and one that seems to support his creative output. In his book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Murakami credits his exercise regimen with keeping his mind clear, keeping his stamina high and body strong enough to sustain long hours of writing, and his work consistent over decades. It’s easy to admire this kind of commitment.
For many people, this kind of structure is aspirational. The idea is simple: Pick a habit, commit to it, and over time, it becomes second nature. But in reality, sticking with something new—whether it’s running, saving money, quitting smoking, or learning a language—is rarely that straightforward. Even with the best intentions, most people find themselves slipping back into old patterns.
Right now, I manage to run and work out once or twice a week, though I’d like to do more. Over the years, I’ve made the plans, bought the gear, and tried to build the habit. But it never quite sticks. This pattern plays out across so many parts of life: spending less, flossing regularly, quitting smoking, cutting back on drinking, learning a new language. The impulse to change is strong, especially at the start of a new year. But so often, the excitement fades, and we find ourselves right back where we started.
Stories like Murakami’s are often held up as proof that change is just a matter of willpower. If he can do it, why can’t you? The assumption is that successful people simply want it more. In American culture, especially, personal growth is often framed as a matter of individual effort. If you can’t get up at 4:00 a.m. for a five-mile run before work, the problem must be a lack of motivation. You just have to try harder.
But as anyone who has attempted lasting change knows, that explanation doesn’t quite hold up. Psychologists like Wendy Wood have spent years studying habit formation, and her findings challenge the idea that willpower alone is enough. For much of the 20th century, the dominant psychological model suggested that behavior follows attitude—change your mind, and your actions will follow. Your environment, your routines, even your past experiences were considered secondary. You were in control.
Yet in practice, habits don’t usually change through sheer force of will. Most of what we do each day isn’t a conscious decision but a set of automatic behaviors shaped by our surroundings. The coffee cup in the same spot on the counter, the phone picked up at the first sign of boredom, the way the body moves toward familiar routines before the mind has even caught up. What feels like resistance to change may actually be something simpler: the pull of patterns already in place.
Changing Habits by Building on What Already Works
According to Psychology Today, breaking habits could Make them stronger.
We’ve seen how old habits have a way of sticking around, even when they no longer serve us. Even with the best intentions, people often find themselves slipping back into familiar routines while feeling stuck and unable to break free.
The common advice for breaking a bad habit is to resist temptation, summon more willpower, and simply stop doing the thing they want to change. But that approach rarely works for long, it’s rarely that easy.
A habit exists for a reason. Even behaviors that seem self-destructive serve some kind of purpose. A person who smokes might be looking for a way to manage stress. Smoking, for example, is more than nicotine addiction. Many smokers associate it with deep breathing and relaxation, a way to pause and reset.
Someone who drinks heavily might be seeking comfort, social connection, or a way to escape discomfort. These behaviors persist not because people don’t want to change, but because they provide something that, at least in the moment, feels necessary.
The habit, in its own way, is trying to help even though it’s temporary (it’s why you reach for another cigarette). That’s why it’s so hard to just eliminate it—because removing the habit creates a void, and that emptiness can feel worse than the habit itself.
Habits, Even The Ones People Want to Leave Behind, are Built Around Something Real—a Need, a Desire, a Sense of Comfort
The most effective way to change isn’t through “resistance” but through replacement. Many people who quit drinking don’t simply stop, they find something else to take its place. This is something addiction recovery programs understand well. People who quit drinking through groups like Narcotics Anonymous (NA), SMART Recovery, and Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), don’t just stop drinking, they replace the role alcohol played in their lives with something else—community, structure, new ways of coping, or a new sense of purpose, things that drinking may have once provided.
The same pattern shows up in other changes. People who take up running or other aerobic exercises often find themselves quitting smoking without much effort. Their body simply stops craving what no longer fits.
Dieting follows a similar logic. Avoiding unhealthy food is difficult, and dieting fails because it’s based on restriction by avoid certain foods. But when people begin eating meals that are both nutritious and satisfying, it’s easier to lose interest in the foods they once struggled to give up.
The people who have the most success with weight loss tend to be those who focus on adding meals that are both nutritious and satisfying, rather than fixating on what they can’t eat. The shift is both physical and psychological.
A habit can’t just be shut off by force. At the core of any habit is an underlying need. Recognizing that—and finding a way to meet the same need in a different way—is what makes change sustainable, and make change feel less like a struggle and more like an adjustment.
