Incredibly difficult.
Years ago, there was a man who was dear to me. He had made his way in our community from taxi driver to Taxi Association Rank Manager.
In his forties, he was warned by doctors that his health was deteriorating rapidly - daily bouts of drinking, numerous cigarettes a day. And here's the saddest part:
He KNEW what to do. And he BEGAN taking steps to change.
He ran at 5am for a couple of days. He stopped drinking for a few weeks. He cut down to two cigarettes a day. But to sustain change like that, you can't stay in the environment that encouraged the behavior in the first place.
Worse, he had to HIDE. He used back routes during his morning runs because his taxi friends would ridicule him: "He wants to run the marathon, hehehe."
Worst of all, he was consumed by anxiety about what people thought - which worsened his chances of quitting. Why? Black townships tend to be crowded. By age 25, most people know a lot about a lot of people. By 40, you're convinced everyone's watching you - because you yourself know everyone.
So those 5am runs didn't last. The alcohol abstinence didn't make it past a month - not around buddies who hadn't seen a doctor in years, who didn't care about their internal organs. In a community where healthcare access was limited and distrust of doctors ran deep, health was dismissed as "a white person's problem, or for nerds, or grannies." It wasn't a priority. It was seen as a luxury.
Here's what I learned from watching him struggle:
Change is difficult, but not really. What's difficult is changing a behavior or mindset while you're still in the environment that introduced and encouraged it.
Alcohol. Cannabis. Cigarettes. Porn. Gossip. Cheating. Illiteracy. Endless scrolling. Fixed mindsets. Laziness.
These behaviors destroy health, self-esteem, longevity, and clear thinking. But in certain households, communities, provinces - they're everywhere. They seem cool, normal, harmless.
But they're not. Looking at research, history, and what happened to the man I loved - they're harmful, destructive, and leave families vulnerable to poverty, aimlessness, and economic failure.
That man passed away five years later. Two years of affliction. Hospitalized. Wheelchair-bound. Swelling. Diabetes. Multiple diseases.
That man was my father.
And he couldn't sustain change in the wrong environment.
I left a month after burying him. I now live and work 100 km away. I read. I maintain routines. I lead teams. I write these words.
Not because I'm stronger than my father. But because I had the privilege of distance - something he never gave himself permission to seek.
If you're reading this and recognize yourself in toxic patterns - whether it's drinking, gossip, doomscrolling, or just going through the motions - ask yourself:
Is my environment helping me grow, or keeping me stuck?
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is leave. Not forever. But long enough to become who you're meant to be.
— Sam Madlala