A man on one of our coaching calls this month had been trying to let go of an old car for the better part of a year. He had good reasons for keeping it. The dog needed rides to his parents' place. Public transit took two hours. Selling it and buying a replacement in the same move wouldn't be an upgrade. Every reason made sense on its own.
And every single reason, when you listened closely, was about his parents.
He didn't hear it. The people around him did. That gap, between the sensible story you tell and the real thing underneath it, is what this article is about. Because you have one of these too. So do we. Everyone does.
The tell is how reasonable you sound
Here's what makes this hard to catch in yourself. A practical excuse doesn't feel like an excuse. It feels like being responsible.
You're keeping the house because the market's soft. You're staying in the job because the benefits are good and the timing is wrong. You're not closing that account because there's a small penalty. You're holding onto the car because of the dog.
None of those are lies. They're just not the reason. The reason is usually something you'd rather not say out loud: this thing connects me to someone I love, or to who I used to be, or it protects me from finding out whether I can stand on my own.
The tell is volume. When a decision is really about logistics, you have one or two reasons and you act on them. When a decision is really about attachment, the reasons multiply. Knock one down and two more show up. That stacking is the signal. A practical problem has a practical answer. An emotional attachment generates an endless supply of practical problems, and each one sounds perfectly fair.
Why the advice you're getting doesn't land
If you've been stuck on something like this, you've probably noticed that other people's suggestions bounce right off you.
Someone says, "Just sell it and buy something cheaper." You say the price difference makes that pointless. Someone says, "Trade it for something of equal value." You say that's an option, and then you don't do it. Someone asks what's stopping you from taking the money and moving on. You explain, patiently, why that math doesn't work.
On the call, John interrupted this exact loop and said what everyone was circling: we're giving logical solutions to a psychological problem. He was right, and it stopped the room. You can't out-argue an attachment with a spreadsheet. The spreadsheet was never the issue.
A practical problem has a practical answer. An attachment generates an endless supply of practical problems.
That's worth sitting with if you're the one who's stuck. You keep finding holes in everyone's suggestions because part of you doesn't want a solution yet. A solution means letting go of something that matters more than the object.
The by-when test
We use one simple test to surface what's really going on. You don't need a therapist for it, though there's nothing wrong with bringing this to one. You need a calendar and a bit of honesty.
Pick the thing you've been stalling on. Now set a hard date and time for it to be done. Not "sometime next year." A day and an hour. Say it out loud to someone who will hold you to it.
Then pay attention to what shows up in the next sixty seconds.
If the objections that arrive are about logistics, you've got a logistics problem, and you'll solve it. If what arrives is a wave of "but what about" that has nothing to do with logistics, you've found the attachment. The man with the car got asked "by when" and immediately started talking about who would take care of the dog. Nothing in that reply was about transportation. All of it was about who he would be to his parents.
You don't have to act on the date right away. The point of the test is the reaction, because the reaction tells you what you're actually negotiating with.
What to do once you see it
Seeing the real reason doesn't mean you have to abandon it. It means you get to decide with your eyes open.
Sometimes you'll look at the attachment and decide it's worth keeping. That's a legitimate choice, as long as you stop pretending it's about the market or the penalty or the dog. Say the true thing: "I'm keeping this because it keeps me close to my family, and I'm okay with what that costs me." That sentence alone takes a lot of the weight out of it.
More often, though, once the real reason is visible, the grip loosens on its own. The man with the car moved his date up twice in a single conversation once he stopped defending the logistics. Something in him had already decided. The reasons were just the last thing holding on.
A few things help here. Separate the object from what it represents, and ask whether there's another way to honor that meaning. Keep the by-when date visible and tell someone who will check on you. And put a real stake on it, something you'd hate to lose if you miss the date. The group on that call suggested that if the car wasn't sold by his deadline, the proceeds would go to charity. He laughed, then got very quiet, then got to work.
This applies well beyond cars. A house you can't sell. A business you can't close. A savings account you can't touch. A job you've outgrown. Every one of them can hide behind a perfectly good practical reason for years. The by-when test takes about a minute and tells you whether you're dealing with logistics or with yourself.
(A quick note: decisions about property, accounts, and employment carry real financial and legal considerations. This article is about the psychology behind stalling, so run the numbers with your own advisor before you act.)
So here's the assignment. Think of the one thing you've been "about to handle" for more than six months. Set a date and time this week. Tell one person. Then notice what you say next.
And if you want to do this kind of work in a room full of people who will call the excuse when they hear it, come join us at Love & Money. Details and tickets are at events.lovejaam.com.
