Journaling practice12 min de lecture

28 juillet 2026

“When the Horse Is Dead, Dismount”: How to Know When It’s Time to Change Course

There’s a popular saying: “When the horse is dead, dismount.” It’s often described as Dakota wisdom, although there’s no reliable evidence that this is where it came from. Still, it’s an excellent metaphor. The old approach stopped working long ago, but we buy a new saddle, enroll the horse in a personal growth workshop, and berate ourselves for not being persistent enough.

The advice looks simple from the outside. In your own life, though, try working out whether a relationship is going through a rough patch or is over. Whether a project needs another three months or it’s time to close the laptop. Whether you’re failing to learn the language or have simply reached the boring grammar section.

Sometimes it’s worth persevering. Sometimes it’s time to dismount. The difference lies not in strength of character, but in the facts.

And in being honest with yourself. Persistence looks noble, which makes it a convenient cover for fear of change. Leaving, meanwhile, is easy to call a weakness, even when it takes far more courage than the familiar “I’ll put up with it a little longer.”

Why It’s So Hard to Dismount

We’re not holding on to the goal alone. Alongside it hang the money we’ve spent, the years we’ve invested, the promises we’ve made, and the proud title of “someone who never gives up.”

Psychologists call this the sunk cost effect. In plain English: “I’ve spent five years on this—I can’t quit now.” But no decision will bring those five years back. The only question is whether you want to give the situation a sixth.

The trap works with small things too. We finish a boring movie because we’ve already spent an hour watching it. We finish a meal we don’t like because we paid for it. We continue a course that stopped offering us anything long ago because there are only eighteen dreary modules left. The mechanism is the same with bigger decisions; only the cost is higher.

In an experiment by psychologist Hal Garland, people were more willing to continue funding a project when most of the budget had already been invested. Not because they believed more strongly that it would turn a profit. It just felt too painful to stop.

That isn’t stupidity. Admitting that a decision didn’t work out is unpleasant. Continuing is psychologically easier—at least today. The bill usually arrives later.

It also means changing the story you tell about yourself. It used to be: “I’m building a successful business.” Now it’s: “I closed the project.” It used to be: “We’ll get through anything.” Now it’s: “We couldn’t make it work.” Between those sentences lie a great deal of grief, shame, and fear of other people’s questions. No wonder you want to stay in the saddle a little longer.

Trap No. 1: Assuming “Hard” Means “Pointless”

It doesn’t always. Learning a new skill, recovering from an injury, and having an honest conversation can all be hard. Sometimes the horse is alive—the road is just going uphill.

It’s more concerning when the system itself is creating the exhaustion. You rest and immediately feel drained again. You change your approach, but the conditions stay the same. The promises sound new, yet the behavior somehow turns up in the same old coat.

Look not at a single bad day, but at the pattern over several weeks or months.

Here’s a simple test. After a difficult but worthwhile process, something besides fatigue usually remains: interest, a new skill, a small result, a sense of movement. After a fruitless process, all that remains is the need to gather your strength again so you can endure another round.

This isn’t a mathematical formula. But the difference between “this is hard because I’m growing” and “this is hard because the same machine keeps grinding me down” often feels fairly clear—especially once you stop trying to talk yourself out of it.

Trap No. 2: Letting One Good Day Cancel Everything Else

After months of coldness, your partner plans a wonderful evening. The project lands one major client. Your boss swears that this time everything really will change. You want to declare the crisis over and order fireworks.

Don’t rush. A good episode matters, but it isn’t a trend yet. A month later, has the situation genuinely changed—or are you back to waiting for the next special occasion?

Look for repetition. One warm conversation is a pleasant evening. A consistent willingness to listen to each other is a change in the relationship. One order is a stroke of luck. Several returning customers are evidence of a working model. One promise from your boss is a sound. A new schedule, a budget, and a new hire are facts.

You don’t need to ban hope. It just works better when paired with observation; otherwise, it quickly appoints itself CEO and fires the analytics department.

Trap No. 3: Calling the Wrong Thing the “Horse”

A person is not a “dead horse.” Nor is the dream necessarily dead. Often, it’s a specific method that has stopped working: persuasion, waiting without a deadline, trying to save a relationship alone, or working without money or a team.

You can keep your desire to help people and change careers. You don’t have to bury the dream of writing a book; you can give up the heroic plan of writing two thousand words after a twelve-hour shift.

Dismounting doesn’t always mean giving up. Sometimes it simply means finding a more comfortable seat.

Try separating the situation into three layers: what matters to me, what I want to achieve, and how I’m currently trying to achieve it. The value can stay the same, the goal can change, and the method can enjoy a well-earned retirement.

For example, freedom matters to someone. They decide that owning a business will give them that freedom, then spend years dragging along an unprofitable café. Closing the café doesn’t mean giving up on freedom. Perhaps freedom can be found in remote work, a new project, or simply a life without calls from a supplier at six in the morning.

Trap No. 4: Waiting for an Official Certificate

No one will issue a certificate stating, “Your horse is officially dead.” So the mind asks for one more sign, one more conversation, and one final month. Then another, just to keep the experiment rigorous.

Complete certainty may never come. But you can have criteria: “If we don’t get five orders within eight weeks, I’ll close the project,” or “If the insults continue after our conversation, I’ll make plans to leave.”

A good criterion is specific, time-bound, and decided in advance—not in a moment of panic or euphoria.

It’s important to choose a criterion that actually answers the question. The number of likes won’t tell you whether a business can support itself. An apology won’t prove that a relationship has become safer. One energetic week after a vacation won’t fix a work routine that leads straight back to burnout.

And it’s best to write the criterion down before the test. Otherwise, the brain becomes a talented accountant: it moves the deadline, renames the loss an investment, and triumphantly reports that everything is going according to plan.

Trap No. 5: Believing “Only Weak People Walk Away”

We love stories about someone who knocked on the same door for twenty years—and in year twenty-one, it opened. They make fewer movies about the person who found another door in year two.

But the ability to let go of an unattainable goal and choose a new one is associated with psychological well-being, as research by Carsten Wrosch and his colleagues has shown. The old path may have given you experience and skills. You don’t have to follow it to the edge of the map to preserve their value.

Leaving can still hurt. The right decision doesn’t have to bring immediate relief and music over the closing credits. You can know it’s time to stop and, at the same time, miss the way everything was supposed to turn out.

It helps to make room for that grief. We say goodbye not only to reality, but also to an imagined future: the home we planned to build, the career we pictured ourselves having in ten years, the person we hoped to become. Grief doesn’t prove that the decision is wrong. Sometimes it simply confirms that this mattered.

How to Tell a Difficult Phase from a “Dead Horse”

There’s no warning light. But if several of these points apply, it’s worth taking a closer look:

the goal or circumstances have changed, but you’re continuing out of inertia;
several reasonable attempts have failed to produce lasting change;
your main arguments are “I’ve invested so much,” “What will people say?” and “It would be a shame to quit”;
the cost is rising: your health, finances, relationships, or self-respect are suffering;
promises change more often than behavior does;
if you had to choose today, you wouldn’t enter the same situation again.

This isn’t a verdict. It’s a reason to stop arguing with the facts and write them down calmly.

One question is especially revealing: “If I hadn’t invested anything yet, would I choose this today?” It won’t make the decision for you, but it does air out the room. Sometimes the answer is a confident “yes, because I still see the point.” Sometimes it’s “no, I’m just afraid to admit how much I’ve already lost.”

It’s also worth asking what could change your answer. If there are clear conditions under which you’re willing to continue, you may be facing a difficult phase. If every new condition merely helps postpone the decision, the saddle is already starting to creak suspiciously.

A Reality Check Without a Panel of Experts or a Crystal Ball

If the decision isn’t urgent, set up a limited experiment instead of waiting indefinitely.

Name the outcome. Not “things will get better,” but “we can discuss money without insults” or “the project will start getting repeat sales.”

Set a deadline. A week, a month, a quarter—however long the test genuinely requires. Not “sometime after Mercury stops being retrograde.”

Record the facts. What is changing, and what keeps repeating? Memory likes to edit the past to match today’s mood. A written record is a slightly less creative witness.

Take a reversible step. Update your résumé, find out how much moving would cost, reduce your investment, or speak with an independent professional. You don’t have to leap into the unknown tomorrow. You can start by opening the gate.

The point of this kind of test isn’t to compile a case file against your own life. It’s to put you back in the position of the person who chooses. Without deadlines and criteria, the decision is made automatically every day: everything stays as it is. An experiment makes that choice visible.

It helps to have someone nearby who isn’t invested in a particular answer. Not someone who immediately says “quit” or “put up with it,” but someone who can help you test your reasoning and notice where fear is disguising itself as common sense.

There are situations in which experimenting is dangerous. In cases of abuse, threats, coercion, or a risk to your health, safety and support from trusted people or services come first. Don’t stop prescribed treatment on your own. If you have doubts about therapy, you can discuss them with a professional or seek a second professional opinion; ordinary discomfort from addressing a difficult subject is not the same as a violation of boundaries.

Journal Prompts for Self-Discovery

A journal won’t make the decision for you—thank goodness. But it can help you separate facts from hopes, fears, and the inner attorney prepared to justify absolutely anything.

What exactly am I preserving: the goal, the familiar method, my status, or my self-image?
What facts point to change? Which ones show the old cycle repeating?
Why am I staying if I set aside the time, money, and effort I’ve already spent?
What price am I paying now, and what will that price be in a year?
What needs to happen, and by what date, for continuing to make sense?
What value do I want to preserve even if I leave my current path?
What small, reversible step would give me more information?

Divide the page into four sections: “facts,” “my explanations,” “the cost of continuing,” and “the cost of leaving.” The picture often becomes clearer within ten minutes.

Write briefly, without trying to produce literature. “Promised three times; failed to do it three times” is more useful than a page of reflections on the complexities of human nature. The facts column should contain what a camera would have seen. The explanations column is for your interpretations, assumptions, and hopes. Both matter, but they shouldn’t be mixed together.

Come back to the entry in a week. If the answer changes every time your mood does, you may not have enough information yet. If the same thought keeps recurring through different emotions, perhaps you already know the answer—you’re just still getting used to it.

Reflectly can be a private place for this kind of writing, with client-side encryption, gentle prompts, and AI-guided insights. Not a judge in robes, but a calm assistant that notices patterns and helps you articulate the next step. Sometimes the value of a personal journal lies precisely in the fact that you don’t have to convince anyone there.

You Don’t Have to Wait Until the Horse Is “Definitely Dead”

The metaphor has one final catch: it suggests that leaving is allowed only after an official death. But you don’t have to wait for disaster. A path may be possible, but too costly for you. The project may be salvageable, but you may not want to give it another year. A relationship can be “not terrible” and still not be right for you.

“This is impossible” isn’t the only valid basis for a decision. “I no longer choose to pay this price” is enough too. That isn’t a whim or a defeat. Adults have the right to revisit agreements, goals, and routes, even if they once chose them sincerely.

Instead of asking, “How can I justify what I’ve already invested?” ask, “Where do I want to direct my energy next?” Perhaps there’s a perfectly healthy horse grazing nearby.

Sources

RBA