The Myth of “You Should See Results by Now”: Why Isn’t It Working (Yet)

There is a quiet belief that shows up in many different guises, often surfacing in the familiar question: Why isn’t it working yet?

It appears when someone abandons a meditation practice after three weeks because their mind still feels busy.
When a dietary change is dropped because energy has not noticeably improved.
When therapy feels unsettling rather than relieving, so it is judged as “not working”.
When a boundary is set, but relationships feel more strained rather than easier.

The belief underneath all of these moments is the same:
If it were working, I would see results by now.

It sounds sensible. Logical. Almost responsible.

And yet, few beliefs quietly undermine meaningful growth more consistently than this one.

The myth, clearly stated

The myth is not that results matter.

The myth is that results must arrive on a predictable timeline in order for something to be valid, effective, or worth continuing.

When this belief is active, the absence of feedback is interpreted as failure. Silence becomes a signal to stop. Neutrality is read as a warning sign.

For example, someone begins a journalling practice to feel calmer. Two weeks in, they notice they are more emotionally aware, more reactive, and more conscious of their inner dialogue. Instead of recognising this as increased awareness, they conclude the practice has made things worse.

Nothing has gone wrong. Awareness has simply arrived before relief.

Where this myth comes from

This belief did not arise because it reflects how change actually works. It arose because it soothes uncertainty.

We live in a world saturated with visible markers of progress. Steps counted. Calories logged.  Streaks tracked. Productivity measured. Improvements documented and shared.

These systems train the brain to expect frequent confirmation. When confirmation is absent, the brain fills the gap with doubt.

This shows up clearly in everyday life. Consider someone who starts going to the gym, or takes up Yoga or Pilates, after a long period of inactivity. In the first few weeks, they often feel more tired, sore, and uncoordinated. Strength has not yet increased, but the body is working hard to adapt. If improvement is expected to feel immediately good, this phase is easily misread as failure.

The discomfort is real. The interpretation is flawed.

Why the myth causes problems

The danger of this belief is not simply that it is inaccurate. It is that it changes how we read our own experience.

When results are not immediately visible, the nervous system often becomes activated. Attention narrows. The mind scans for alternatives. Old habits begin to look appealing again, not because they are better, but because they are familiar.

This is why people often quit just as something meaningful is taking root.

Someone starts addressing a long-standing pattern of people-pleasing. At first, relationships feel more awkward, not more harmonious. There may be guilt, friction, or pushback. Interpreting this as “this is not working”, they revert to old behaviours, unaware that discomfort was a sign of recalibration, not error.

The myth teaches us to confuse destabilisation with dysfunction.

Taking root before being seen

In nature, growth rarely announces itself when it begins.

A seed does not send up shoots the moment it is planted. Its first work happens underground. Roots spread quietly, anchoring, drawing nutrients, establishing stability. From the surface, nothing appears to be happening at all.

If the seed were judged by visibility alone, it would be declared a failure long before it ever had a chance to grow.

Human change follows a similar pattern. Before new behaviours, emotions, or capacities can appear above the surface, something has to stabilise beneath it. New foundations are laid. Old structures loosen. Support systems reorganise.

This phase can feel unsettling precisely because it is invisible. There is no proof yet, only process.

But without this rooting phase, anything that does emerge later lacks stability. Fast shoots without deep roots do not last.

What neuroscience tells us instead

In the brain, new neural pathways form through repetition long before they are strong enough to dominate behaviour or perception. During this period, old patterns still fire automatically. The new pattern is present, but it is quieter.

This is why someone can intellectually understand a new perspective yet still react in the old way. Insight has arrived before integration.

Stress further complicates this. When the nervous system is activated, perception becomes threat-focused. Neutral experiences feel negative. Ambiguity feels unsafe. In this state, the absence of reassurance is easily interpreted as evidence of failure.

In other words, the phase where doubt is loudest is often the phase where change is most fragile and most real.

Replacing the myth with something more accurate

A more useful question than “Why am I not seeing results yet?” is often:

“What would progress look like at this stage, if it were subtle rather than dramatic?”

Early indicators of genuine change often look like:

• Noticing patterns you previously missed
• Catching yourself mid-reaction, even if you still react
• Questioning things that once felt automatic

These experiences are rarely celebrated. They do not photograph well. But they are often the first signs that something is reorganising beneath the surface.

When I was learning to sleep again after years of insomnia, rest did not feel like relief at first. It felt wrong. I felt lazy. I felt guilty. There was a persistent sense that I was being self-indulgent, that I should be doing something more productive with the time and energy that were slowly returning.

I often fought the urge to rest. I stayed busy to feel useful. Activity felt safer than stillness.

This was not a failure of sleep. It was exposure to rest after years of prolonged activation. A nervous system that has learned to survive without sleep does not immediately trust it when it finally becomes possible.

A practical way to work with this

When the thought “I should be further along by now” arises, it can help to pause and ask what is actually being sought.

Often, it is not progress. It is reassurance.

Rather than chasing visible outcomes, it can be more useful to notice smaller, often uncelebrated shifts:

• Catching yourself mid-reaction, even if you still react
• Becoming aware of how you feel, when previously you moved straight past it
• Your body responding differently, needing more rest, feeling unsettled, or asking you to slow down
• Old habits still appearing, but feeling less automatic or less convincing than they once did
• Questioning impulses you used to follow without noticing
• Feeling discomfort sooner, rather than numbing or overriding it
• Pausing, even briefly, before doing what you would once have done on autopilot

These moments rarely feel satisfying. They are easy to dismiss. But they often mark the point where something real has begun to change.

Growth does not always feel like improvement. Sometimes it simply feels like noticing more before anything looks different.

Staying with something during this phase is not about persistence for its own sake. It is about allowing enough awareness and time for discernment to become possible.

At times, the most intelligent response is not to change direction immediately, but to recognise that a lack of obvious feedback does not mean nothing is happening at all.

The myth tells us we should already be seeing results. Reality is often quieter, slower, and far more intelligent than that.