Sometimes the fastest way to change an outcome isn't changing the situation.
It's changing the state you're in while facing it.
We often think we need to solve the problem in front of us. Push harder. Find another option. Work out how to regain control. But I've found that, sometimes, the biggest shift doesn't come from changing the situation at all. It comes from changing the way we're showing up within it.
Just a few days ago, I experienced this in a way I'll never forget.
I'd been back in the UK visiting family and friends and was finally heading home to see my husband after three weeks apart. To get home, I had an international flight followed by a domestic connection through Atlanta. On paper, a two-hour layover sounded more than enough time. In reality, it became one of the most stressful journeys I've ever had.
Our international flight was delayed. Once we landed, we then sat on the runway for over an hour. My suitcase was one of the last to come onto the carousel. With every delay, I could feel the likelihood of making my connection slipping away.
By the time I finally had my luggage, I had just 17 minutes to get from the international terminal to the domestic terminal before bag check closed.
The taxi seemed to move at a glacial pace, while my anxiety did exactly the opposite.
I sprinted into the terminal, apologising as I squeezed past people waiting in queues, somehow making it to bag drop with just minutes to spare. Then came the next hurdle. TSA PreCheck had already closed, the standard security queue stretched on for what looked like forever, and when I asked if there was anything that could be done, the answer was a firm no.
So I did something completely outside my comfort zone.
I walked through the queue asking complete strangers if they would mind letting me go ahead of them.
Most people were incredibly kind. A few weren't. I completely understood both reactions.
By this point I only had a few minutes left before the gate closed.
Thankfully, neither of my bags was pulled aside at security. For a brief moment I felt relieved, until I realised I still needed to catch the tram to the D gates. As the tram slowly stopped at A-C Gates first, I watched the gate closure time come and go on my phone.
I remember thinking, “Just keep going. At least you'll know you tried.”
When I finally arrived at my gate, I could see a large group of 7 passengers still being helped at the desk. It gave me a glimmer of hope.
Around twenty minutes later, after the gate agent had worked tirelessly to help resolve their travel issues, she finally scanned my boarding pass.
She looked at me apologetically and said, "I'm so sorry. I literally just gave your seat to one of these passengers."
In that moment, I accepted that I wasn't making the flight.
What surprised me wasn't that I'd missed it.
It was my reaction.
After everything that had happened, I expected to feel another wave of frustration or disappointment.
Instead, I felt myself surrender.
Not because I didn't care, but because I realised there was genuinely nothing more I could have done.
I'd run through the airport.
I'd asked strangers for help.
I'd stepped outside my comfort zone.
I'd done everything that was within my control.
The rest wasn't mine anymore.
Almost immediately, I noticed my body beginning to settle. My breathing slowed, the dizziness from the adrenaline faded, and for the first time in over two hours I wasn't simply reacting to everything around me.
Looking back now, I realised something else shifted too.
Up until that point, I'd viewed the lady behind the desk as the person standing between me and getting home. Once I'd calmed down, I could actually see what was happening. She wasn't a barrier at all. She was another human being, working incredibly hard to help people who were having an equally difficult day.
Some passengers had become so frustrated they were kicking their suitcases. Through it all, she remained calm, patient and empathetic.
I don't think I'd have noticed any of that had I stayed caught up in my own stress.
So I simply waited.
A little while later, the gate door re-opened.
To my surprise, the entire group I'd watched board the aircraft walked back off again.
It turned out there had only been six seats available, not seven. Because they were travelling together, and the group included children, they all chose to disembark rather than split up.
In an unexpected turn of events, the seat I'd lost became available again.
I couldn't quite believe it.
I was actually getting home.
Looking back, what strikes me most is that my response didn't change the event itself.
The delays still happened.
The queues still existed.
The seat was still temporarily given away.
None of that changed.
What changed was me.
Because I'd stopped fighting what I couldn't control, I stayed exactly where I needed to be. Had I remained in that heightened state, I genuinely think I would have walked away to find the help desk and started trying to solve the problem somewhere else.
Instead, I waited.
That experience reminded me of something I learnt many years ago when I first entered the world of training.
E + R = O
Event + Response = Outcome
The event is often outside our control.
The response belongs to us.
And whilst we can't always influence the event, we can influence the version of ourselves that responds to it.
I see this play out all the time.
Someone is waiting for an email.
A promotion.
The outcome of an interview.
A difficult conversation.
A text message they've sent.
A business decision.
So much of our emotional wellbeing becomes tied to decisions being made by somebody else. We hand over our peace while we wait for an outcome that we can't predict or control.
Personally, I've experienced enough moments like this to believe there's something incredibly powerful about releasing our attachment to an outcome. Whether you see that through the lens of nervous system regulation, surrender or manifestation doesn't matter nearly as much as the practice itself. Once we stop gripping so tightly to what we can't control, we often become far more effective with what we can.
When we're more regulated, we tend to think more clearly, notice more possibilities and make better decisions.
Our state is the internal combination of our thoughts, emotions and energy, expressed through our behaviour.
Sometimes changing that state is surprisingly simple.
Stand up.
Straighten your posture.
Go for a walk.
Work somewhere different for the afternoon.
Take three slow breaths.
Listen to music that changes your energy (my absolute favourite).
None of those things change the event.
But they might change you.
And in my experience, that's often where better outcomes begin.
Since that journey, I've found myself asking a slightly different question whenever life doesn't go to plan.
“Am I trying to change the situation...or would I be better served by changing the state I'm in while facing it?”
More often than not, the answer surprises me.
Sometimes the smallest shift in perspective changes everything.