The Lie That Feels Like Home

Freedom is a strange thing.

Most of us spend years believing we want it. We pray for it, fight for it, dream about it, and imagine how much better life will be once we finally break free from the things that have been holding us back. We picture the peace, the relief, the abundance, the healthy relationship, the healed version of ourselves, or the new chapter we have been longing to reach.

Then something unexpected happens.

Freedom arrives.

And instead of feeling relieved, we feel terrified.

That realization has fascinated me for years because it appears almost everywhere in life. It shows up in relationships, healing journeys, businesses, faith, personal growth, family dynamics, and even in the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. What I have learned is that freedom is not always the hard part. Sometimes receiving freedom is.

One of the most difficult truths I have encountered, both personally and professionally, is that the human nervous system often confuses familiar with safe. Those are not the same thing. A toxic relationship can feel familiar without being safe. Chronic anxiety can become familiar without being healthy. Living small may feel familiar without being aligned. Even people-pleasing can masquerade as love simply because we have practiced it for so long. Familiarity creates comfort, but comfort should never be confused with truth.

Many of us spend years living inside patterns that hurt us while simultaneously feeling comforted by their predictability. At least we know the rules. At least we understand the terrain. At least we know where the emotional landmines are buried. There is a strange sense of security in knowing exactly what to expect, even when what we expect is painful.

Freedom removes the map.

That is where things become uncomfortable.

One of the most powerful concepts I have encountered in trauma work is the idea that the nervous system often chooses predictability over possibility. Growth requires uncertainty. Healing requires uncertainty. Healthy relationships require uncertainty. New opportunities require uncertainty. Every meaningful transformation asks us to walk into territory we have never navigated before.

Naturally, that feels vulnerable.

And vulnerability often feels unsafe long before it feels liberating.

Years ago, I found myself repeatedly returning to relationships, dynamics, and situations that I knew were unhealthy. Looking back now, it was never because they were good for me. The attraction came from familiarity. The dysfunction was recognizable. The emotional landscape felt known. Even the pain carried a strange sense of comfort because I understood how to survive inside it.

Many of us do this in ways we do not fully recognize.

Someone leaves a toxic relationship and suddenly misses the chaos. A person begins healing and becomes uncomfortable with the quiet. An entrepreneur finally receives the opportunity they have prayed for and immediately begins sabotaging their own success. Healthy boundaries get established, only to be followed by waves of guilt and self-doubt.

None of those reactions necessarily mean we are failing.

Often they simply mean we are leaving familiar territory.

That distinction matters.

One of the themes I explore throughout both *The Hippie Christian* and *Sober Faith* is that growth frequently feels disruptive before it feels peaceful. We assume healing should immediately create relief. Sometimes it does. Other times, healing first exposes all the ways we learned to survive.

Coping mechanisms that once protected us begin losing their usefulness. Identities we carried for years stop fitting quite as comfortably as they once did. Stories we have repeated about ourselves no longer feel true, while certain relationships become strained as growth changes the way we show up in the world. Meanwhile, the life we are building starts pulling us further away from the version of life we once understood.

That transition can feel surprisingly lonely.

Scripture captures this reality beautifully in Isaiah 43:19:

*”See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”*

The challenge is that new things rarely feel familiar.

Most of us pray for transformation while secretly hoping it will feel comfortable. Yet comfort is usually found in what is known, while growth is often found in what is not. God may be doing a new thing, but the nervous system often wants the old map.

This becomes especially important when discussing trauma bonds and unhealthy relationships. One of the most misunderstood aspects of healing is that the absence of chaos can initially feel boring. A healthy relationship may feel less exciting than a dysfunctional one because the nervous system has spent years associating intensity with connection.

One of the most important distinctions healing teaches is that chaos is not intimacy, control is not love, emotional volatility is not passion, and familiarity is not safety. Understanding those differences can completely change the trajectory of a life because many of us have spent years mistaking intensity for connection.

The longer I work with people, the more I realize that many of us are not actually afraid of failure. Failure is familiar. Struggle is familiar. Disappointment is familiar. What often frightens us far more is the possibility that things could actually work.

Success brings responsibility. Healing requires accountability. Freedom introduces choice. Healthy love asks for presence, while purpose demands participation. Each of those realities requires more from us than remaining stuck ever did, which is precisely why genuine growth can feel so intimidating.

That is why freedom sometimes feels terrifying.

The old version of life may have been painful, but at least it was predictable. The new version requires trust, and trust has always been one of faith’s greatest invitations.

Brené Brown wrote, *”You can choose courage or you can choose comfort. You cannot have both.”*

I think about that quote often.

Every meaningful transformation requires courage. Healing requires courage. Healthy relationships require courage. Purpose requires courage. None of those journeys come with guarantees. What they offer instead is the opportunity to become someone new.

Perhaps that is why so many people return to old patterns even after they have escaped them. Familiar pain often feels easier than unfamiliar possibility. Yet every meaningful chapter of life eventually asks the same question:

Will we choose what is familiar?

Or will we choose what is free?

Personally, I am beginning to believe that some of the greatest acts of faith happen when we stop mistaking familiarity for safety. Growth begins the moment we recognize that the discomfort of becoming is often healthier than the comfort of staying the same.

After all, the nervous system may choose a familiar hell over an unfamiliar heaven, but the soul was never designed to stay there. The invitation is not to run back toward what is known simply because it feels comfortable, nor to shrink because expansion feels uncertain. Instead, perhaps we learn to trust that what feels unfamiliar today may one day feel like home.

And perhaps that is where real freedom begins.

Have you ever found yourself wanting to go back to something you knew was unhealthy — not because it was good for you, but because it was familiar?

What has been the hardest part of choosing growth, healing, freedom, or a new chapter in your life?

Share below. These conversations always remind us that we are far less alone in our struggles than we often believe.

And if this resonated with you, share it. Someone may need the reminder that familiar and safe are not always the same thing.

As always loving and praying for you and our world,

Rene Schooler

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This post was previously published on medium.com.