How Letting Go of Limiting Beliefs Leads to Personal and Collective Growth

Have you ever watched a snake shed its skin? I was curious about the process, so I watched a video. 😳 I watched the snake struggle, at least it looked like a struggle to me. It wasn’t an easy process. The snake rubbed against rocks and trees, squirming all over the ground, struggling to break free from what was once protecting but now restricting. The snake seemed agitated, but it kept working at it until it was free of the old skin.

Nietzsche, a German philosopher, said,

The snake that does not shed its skin perishes; likewise, people who do not change their thoughts perish.

I've been thinking about this metaphor lately. About the necessity and difficulty of shedding old ideas, beliefs, and paradigms that no longer fit or that no longer serve the whole. About the discomfort that comes before renewal. About how desperately we cling to what we know, even when it constricts us or harms others.

I recognize this difficulty in myself. Even after experiencing a profound worldview shift that turned everything upside down twenty-five years ago, I still find myself resisting smaller sheddings. I get frustrated, angry, and agitated whenever something challenges my thoughts and beliefs. I dig in my heels before reluctantly moving forward. The process never gets easy, no matter how many times I've experienced its ultimate value. But I do it because I trust that the effort is worth it.

Why is it so hard? And why am I the one doing all this work? I look around and see so many people gripping tightly to certainties, refusing to question or examine their beliefs and stories even a little. Meanwhile, I'm constantly examining what I think I know, deliberately seeking out perspectives that might prove me wrong, and it's hard!

Understanding Our Brain's Resistance to Change

There's a reason this work feels so difficult. Our brains aren't designed to question our beliefs; they're designed for efficiency. Neuropsychologist Robert Burton, who studies certainty, points out that our brains reward us with a hit of dopamine when we encounter information that confirms what we already believe. And we experience discomfort, actual neural pain, he says, when confronted with evidence that challenges our worldview. Our brain treats contradictory information as a threat, filtering it out before it ever reaches our conscious awareness. It's not just stubbornness; it's biological. Our brains filter it out! We have to be intentional in overriding our biology to stay flexible.

Deb Dana, who specializes in Polyvagal Theory, says our nervous systems interpret unfamiliar ideas as potential threats. When someone challenges our core beliefs, we don't just disagree intellectually; our bodies move into protection mode. Our heart rates increase. Our muscles tense. Our thinking narrows. We are physiologically resistant to considering that we might be wrong.

No wonder it’s such a struggle! It’s the death of a particular way of making sense of the world that has kept us safe and oriented.

The Hidden Costs of Clinging to the Past

Resistance is exhausting. I know because I spent years doing it. I still do, at least at first. I notice how I automatically push back against ideas that challenge my comfortable beliefs. How my body tenses when someone suggests a perspective that disrupts my worldview.

This resistance isn't just happening on a personal level. It’s happening collectively. People are clinging to outdated structures and paradigms that are clearly failing. Sometimes I want to shake the person and scream, "Can't you see what's happening? Can’t you see how unsustainable and even harmful this is?"

Then, I remember my own struggle with letting go, and I find a bit of compassion. This doesn’t mean I stop standing up for what matters to me, but it does help to know that it truly is hard for people to change—even in the face of mountains of evidence.

There’s so much insecurity; people hate that feeling, believing iron-clad certainty and black-and-white thinking are the cure. I get it. I hate it, too. It freaks our brains out. But we must find a way forward in the face of it. Activist Rudolph Bahro said this:

When an old culture is dying, the new culture is created by those people who are not afraid to be insecure.

I disagree with Bahro that a new culture is created by people who aren’t afraid, but I wholeheartedly agree that the way forward is by having the courage, despite our fear, to push past our resistance, anger, and insecurity to create a new culture. It’s the vulnerability of shedding what's familiar before knowing what will replace it. That takes courage.

Navigating the Uncomfortable Middle Ground of Transformation

People are clinging to their views. It shows up in our politics, social media fights, responses to climate change, and my entrepreneurial clients who discover that what got them to success won’t get them to the next level. Some people grip old paradigms so tight their faces turn red. Have you noticed? Others try to race forward, dismissing all wisdom from the past—trying to leap over anything uncomfortable or disorienting. Almost no one seems willing to hang out in that messy middle space where real transformation happens.

There’s a line in an Ani DiFranco song I love: “The precipice between groundlessness and flight.” That’s what happens after we let go, but before we find our grip again. That uncomfortable, frightening place of teetering. That's where transformation happens. In that messy, uncomfortable middle space, where we've released what was but haven't yet grasped what's becoming. Like the trapeze artist flying untethered through the air.

It could be that nagging feeling that something doesn't make sense anymore. The explanations that once seemed right but now feel hollow. The certainties that organized your life begin to wobble. At this point, you have a choice: step back to the illusion of safety or dare to reach for something new.

If you reach, you’ll likely encounter that precipice—not grounded but not yet in flight. This is what insecurity feels like. It’s uncomfortable—terrifying even. It’s tempting to go back, but if you do, you won’t help the new culture be born. We need to usher in a new culture. We need you to weather the messy middle space until you find what’s on the other side. Please.

The Role of Vulnerability in Personal and Collective Growth

Shedding what no longer serves us and others isn’t just about release, it’s about stepping into the unknown without guarantees. It can be terrifying and vulnerable. And I’m not talking about the superficial, influencer version of vulnerability that gets repackaged as authenticity, but the kind that admits, I don’t know for sure. The kind that stays open and curious when certainty feels safer.

It takes courage to say, "I might be wrong," in a culture that rewards certainty and judges doubt. It requires courage to remain open when shutting down feels safer. It also requires humility to recognize that our beliefs remain partial, no matter how carefully constructed they are.

I struggle with this. I still catch myself pushing my perspective, trying to force others to see what seems so obvious to me. I often bristle when someone challenges a deeply held belief. The difference now is that I notice the resistance more quickly and choose to walk through my insecurity more often.

Building Supportive Communities Amid Change

Moving through our resistance and being in the messy middle ground is easier when we are in connection with and supported by others. We aren't meant to go through these messy transformations alone. Stephen Porges's research shows that our nervous systems co-regulate with others. We find true safety in secure connection, not in rigid certainty. When we surround ourselves with people who are also willing to question, doubt, and grow, we create the conditions where transformation becomes possible.

This doesn't mean surrounding ourselves only with those who think exactly like us—too much of that is happening. It means finding people who are willing to grow and change, who love the questions as much as the answers, and who can sit with you in the confusion without going into fix-it mode. I hate fix-it mode. I bet many of you do, too.

As Joanna Macy says,

The biggest gift you can give is to be absolutely present... The main thing is that you're showing up, that you're here and that you're finding ever more capacity to love this world.

Perhaps this is what we need most. Not perfect certainty but the capacity to show up fully, to engage honestly with what is, and to remain open to what could be created, even when we feel insecure.

Identifying and Releasing Limiting Beliefs

I think of the snake metaphor and find comfort in it. The discomfort of shedding isn’t failure but evolution. The vulnerability of the in-between state isn’t weakness but transformation in process. It’s that messy middle ground.

What thoughts have you outgrown that still cling to you like an old skin?
What beliefs have become constricting or harmful rather than protective?
What certainties might you need to release to make space for something new?

I don't have the answers, but I commit to asking the questions of myself first and then of others. To keep rubbing against rough surfaces until what no longer serves is released.

Because the alternative—remaining safely encased in what we've always known—leads to a different kind of death. Not the transformative death that leads to new life, but a quiet snuffing out. The slow suffocation of what could be.

I choose the discomfort of shedding again and again, however imperfectly. Because beyond the struggle lies the capacity to hold paradox, to embrace complexity, to love this broken, beautiful world exactly as it is while working toward what it might become.

What about you? What skin are you ready to shed?