The tremble before we break

In his book Why We Break, Vincent Deary writes about “trembling”. Not some kind of dramatic collapse, hitting rock bottom kind of thing. Not breakdown in the cinematic sense. But something a bit more the subtle, a bit more relatable, often not recognise, that happens when we can no longer hold steady against external change.

An intriguing word that both makes sense, but also challenges our relationship to change.

Trembling is what happens before we fall apart. It’s the red fags that perhaps we can take more notice of. It’s the quiver in the voice during a meeting when everything is “fine.” It’s the restless sleep, yep those 3am sweats. The sudden tears at something small (like when watching Punch the Monkey! Ecosia it). Or maybe the inability to concentrate. And then the overwhelming feeling that the ground beneath you is shifting, and it feels like you have no control.

So, what I’ve taken from the book is, in moments of change, trembling is not a bad thing, a wrong thing, a glitch. It is information, it’s a warning alert.

Here’s some thoughts, notes scribbles inspired by the book.

Change Always Shakes the System

The book reminds us that we are not machines built for constant upgrade. We of course can flex and adapt. But adaptation is not always a smooth ride. It involves messiness, uncertainty, and the (temporary) destabilisation of who we maybe think we are.

When change arrives and says Hi, whether it’s redundancy, leadership changes, illness, parenthood, success, failure, even positive transformation like promotion, our nervous system registers an ‘alert threat’. Not because change is always dangerous, but because it is unpredictable, we are venturing into the unknown.

We think predictable equals safety. Uncertainty equals vigilance, alertness. Readiness to respond to the unknown monster hiding around the corner.

So we tremble.

We may try to override it. Push through. Tell ourselves we’re being dramatic, it’s nothing, it’s fleeting. Sometimes we label it as weakness, we need to shake it off. But trembling is often the psyche’s early warning system. It is the body saying: something significant is happening here.

Trembling Is Not Breaking

One of the most compassionate threads in the book is the idea that breaking is never really sudden. It is cumulative, it slowly builds. Trembling is the preview almost, the trailer, the small creeks forming long before the visible crack shows. But trembling is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, without trembling in the face of significant change, you might suggest disconnection, you might miss important changes happening, you might miss opportunity.

If nothing shakes us, perhaps nothing matters deeply enough.

When you care, about your job, your relationships, how you are showing up, change should move you.

The Identity Quake

Much of trembling during change is not about the event itself. It’s about who we are in relation to it.

When a role changes, we ask:
Who am I now?

When a relationship ends:
Who am I without this mirror?

When success arrives:
Can I live up to this?

Change destabilises and challenges the story we’ve been telling about ourselves. The old narrative loosens but the new one hasn’t fully formed. Trembling lives in that in-between. The messy part of a lot of unknowns. So it’s no wonder we don’t like it. But its doesn’t mean its not good for us. Humans are not naturally comfortable here. We prefer clarity. Yet growth happens in these thresholds. We can only learn in this space.

Navigating Change with the Tremble

So how do we work with trembling rather than against it? Here are some ideas.

1. Slow the tempo. Pause!
Change accelerates environments and processing. We can be in danger of over heating! Our physiology needs deceleration. Fewer decisions. More pauses. Even brief moments of stillness allow the body to process the shift.

2. Separate danger from discomfort.
Not all trembling signals catastrophe. Often it signals growth. Ask: Is this unsafe, or simply unfamiliar?

3. Share the uncertainty.
Trembling isolates when hidden. It normalises when spoken. Leaders who acknowledge “this is unsettling time for us all, including me” reduce collective anxiety rather than amplify it. This is where messy conversations hold power.

4. Rebuild and reshape gradually.
Identity reforming takes time. You do not need a fully formed answer to “what’s next?” while you’re still shaking. But you can start to explore and play with ideas.

The Wisdom in the Shake

There is something completely human about trembling. It reminds us that we are alive, responsive, relational. We are not rigid structures; we are adaptive systems. That’s what makes us brilliant messy humans.

When we navigate change, especially profound change, trembling might be the most real and relatable response available.

In Why We Break, the book dignifies being fragile and vulnerable in times of change. What looks like weakness can be the beginning of rethinking, a system destabilising in order to reconfigure at a deeper level. And that feels inspiring!

So perhaps the question is not:
How do I avoid and stop trembling?

But:
What is this trembling trying to teach me, how is it guiding me?

Sometimes the shake is not the end of strength.

It is strength reorganising itself.

Have you read the book? What do you think?