Tangled Strings, Trembling Weights, and the Messiness of Neuroplasticity
The Messy, Tangled, Uncomfortable Truth that is Neuroplasticity
For the last year or two, I’ve been diving deeply into the worlds of neurobiology and the autonomic nervous system. Part of this exploration has been for my own growth and development, and part of it has been because this is the very foundation of the work I share with others.
The reflection I’m writing today comes out of two places: the conversations I’ve had with my coach, @Stefanie Faye, and the insights I’ve shared with my accountability group, where I’ve been wrestling with some very real challenges in my own life.
The Ball of String
When I tried to explain what I was experiencing, the image that came to me was a ball of string, a messy, tangled, knotted. All the colours of my thoughts, emotions, and habits were mixed together in a way that made it impossible to see where one began and another ended.
What I longed for was to stretch each thread out, to see the colours clearly, to follow neat pathways. That felt like clarity. That felt like my brain running on a new operating system.
But what I’ve been learning is that neuroplasticity doesn’t happen in those moments of neatness. It happens in the mess.
The Weight of Growth
As Stefanie reminded me, the process is a lot like weightlifting. If we always choose the light weights, our muscles never really change. But when we try to lift something heavier, our arms tremble. It feels uncomfortable. We want to put the weight down.
And yet, that trembling is exactly the point. That’s the body’s way of building new fibres, new capacity.
The same is true in the brain. Neuroplasticity only kicks in when the demands are greater than the resources we currently have. Let that sink in! That uncomfortable space, the mess of the ball of string, IS the fertile ground for rewiring.
What Happens If We Avoid the Mess
There is an alternative. We can choose not to tug at the knots. We can avoid the heavier weights. And the brain adapts to that too.
Neuroscientists sometimes call this atrophy. I don’t see it as “bad,” but it is less adaptive, less efficient. Pathways that aren’t challenged tend to weaken; the brain becomes narrower in its responses.
As one review explained:
“Circuits that remain unstimulated may enter a state of atrophy. Under certain conditions, these same neurons can be reactivated and reorganised through targeted activity.” (Huang, Ha & Petitto, Neural Plasticity, 2015)
In other words, avoiding challenge doesn’t leave us unchanged. It leaves us with fewer options when life inevitably asks us to carry something heavy. However, what the article is saying is that because of neuroplasticity, there is always the possibility of growth, even after a period of atrophy.
Examples in Daily Life
In the classroom:
Think of a student struggling with a maths problem. Their ball of string is a knot of frustration. If we rescue them too quickly, we rob them of the chance to build new pathways. But if we stay beside them, breaking the task into steps, offering calm presence, helping them hold the weight without dropping it, their brain begins to reorganise.
At home:
I’ve felt this when I receive criticism or face uncertainty. My instinct is to shrink the demand: to say, I won’t try again. That brings relief in the moment, but over time it narrows me. Choosing instead to stay with the discomfort, to notice, to journal, to reflect is like tugging gently at one knot at a time. Slowly, the threads begin to separate, and new pathways open up.
Awareness as the First Tug
Even simply noticing e.g., I’m tangled here. This feels heavy. I want to give up, is already the beginning of neuroplasticity. Awareness is the first tug at the string.
Research shows that active engagement, novelty, and even physical activity can support the growth of new pathways.
““Exercise, novelty, and active engagement stimulate brain-derived neurotrophic factor, which supports the growth of new neural connections.” ”
Awareness itself is a form of engagement. It opens the door to change.
The Invitation
So for all of us - teachers, parents, leaders, students - the invitation is this:
Don’t expect growth to feel neat. Expect the ball of string.
Don’t be surprised by the trembling. That’s the sign that new fibres are forming.
Remember that avoiding discomfort doesn’t preserve us; it narrows us.
Because neuroplasticity isn’t abstract - it’s lived in our brains and bodies. And sometimes, it feels exactly like a tangled ball of string.
