Contrary Action: Feeling the Feelings and Moving Forward
I was on one of the most breathtaking hikes of my life, surrounded by wildflowers and stunning mountain views, doing exactly what I had planned—and I couldn’t shake the thought of how alone I felt.
This year has been full of transition. Big changes in my personal and professional life brought freedom and promise, but also loss and grief. Looking back, a number of things stand out to me, but among the highlights were two solo workation trips I took. I packed up my car, drove to awe-inspiring places in Colorado, and created weekends that combined productivity and adventure. Mornings were for hiking wildflower-strewn trails; afternoons were spent on coaching calls. The weekends were beautiful, memorable, and fulfilling—and yet, I cried. A lot.
On the trails, I felt everything. At times, I was in awe: I’m exactly where I want to be. LOOK at that lake! And the columbines! At other times, the thought I am just so alone played on a loop in my mind. It was dissonant—feeling proud of myself for living in alignment with my values while still allowing space for grief and sadness to exist.
This year, I’ve learned to lean on a practice that helps me move forward when my heart feels heavy: contrary action.
Technically, contrary action means doing the opposite of what you normally do, especially when it comes to breaking habits or improving yourself. I interpret it as choosing what serves your future self, even when your present self wants to wallow in self-pity, lash out, buffer, or numb. It’s taking myself dancing when I want to stay in my pajamas, knowing I’ll feel better for having gone. It’s calling the potential client back even when I’m scared. It’s expanding my photography side hustle when the fear of failure keeps me up at night. It’s taking the hikes—even through tears—because I know they improve my mental and physical health and help create the life I want.
As Sirius Black says in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: “We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the side we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.” To me, this captures the heart of contrary action: we can feel fear, sadness, loneliness, or anger, but what defines us is not the feelings themselves or the thoughts that create them—it’s what we choose to do and how we choose to act even with the feelings.
Looking back, those solo weekends weren’t just about the hikes or the productivity. They were about showing up for myself, even when it was hard. Even when I was hurting.
This is the invitation for you, too: Where can you take contrary action? What small step supports your future self—even when your present self would rather pull the covers over her head? Whether it’s lacing up your shoes for a walk, making a difficult phone call, or simply showing up for a commitment—take the step.
Hard feelings will come. Take the step anyway. Your future self will thank you.
With warmth,
Amy