The theory of change spells out stages in the process: contemplation, when you start feeling something should shift or change; preparation, when you’re making a plan; action, when you’re putting it in motion; and maintenance, seeing it through, making it stick.

We all know from our own experience that when we decide to change something in our lives, it’s relatively easy to make a plan. We may even manage to put it into motion. The last stage, maintenance, is by far the biggest hurdle. You take out gym membership in January only to let it lapse by March. You decide to stop drinking or swearing or shouting at the kids, only to relapse within a week.

When the change involves letting go of addiction, it is so much harder.

Costa Carastavrakis got drunk for the first time when he was only twelve. It would take years for him to recognise his addiction for what it was, because he was always fully functional, limiting his drinking to certain days of the week and working hard on the other days. As a student, he says, he was “either drunk or studying.” When he moved on to drugs, and specifically methamphetamine, however, he could no longer keep up two separate lives. The drugs took over, leading him to a very dark, very lonely place.

“I found myself desperate on a Sunday night. The drugs were about to finish, and I felt possessed. I was no longer in control of my life. The drugs were now making the decisions. I had lied to my then partner. I had cheated a few people. And I started looking around my apartment – the money had dried up – and then the drugs said, ‘Right, we can start selling things. Let’s start selling the TV. Maybe we can sell the house, get an extra bond.’ And I couldn’t stop it. That change moment came from a moment of fear – no, fear is not a strong enough word. Horror. A horror that I officially could no longer run my life.”

Desperate, he phoned a friend who was in a 12-step recovery programme. She told him about a meeting near him. He drove there, attending his first meeting that same evening. That was more than 18 years ago.

How did he make it stick? As he says himself, relapse is all too often “part of the journey.” Four of his friends have died after a relapse. It is an ever-present danger. Costa believes two things have kept him going: the horror of even just the idea of going back to the world of crystal meth, and the people he found in the newly discovered drug-free world. “There’s so much power in standing up in a room full of addicts saying, ‘I am an addict.’ Because with it comes a sense of powerlessness. Like, ‘I’m done.’ And saying that over and over in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, and then telling your family and friends … suddenly everybody thinks you’re going to stop. Ugh. Now you’ve got to stop.”

Change scientist Dr Frank Magwegwe calls this “accountability partners” – people around you who support you in your change journey, holding you to the promises you make.

Steve Milton was one of the founding partners in what would become a major consultancy firm in Johannesburg. “The first ten years were awesome,” he remembers. “We had a vision. We were doing amazing things.” But then, slowly, it shifted. “It got clouded. (We were) earning money and profits at all costs, at the expense of serving clients and doing the right thing.”

For a number of years, he stayed on in spite of a growing discomfort. “You know your choices. You know what you should do. Why don’t you? For me, it was earning good money in a successful place. You always promised yourself, ‘When I just receive that extra bit, then I’ll change.’ Then you receive that extra bonus and then it’s just the next one. It’s just all-consuming.”

The decision was taken for him when he had a severe heart attack at the age of 41. Waking up, he told his wife he was making two changes: he would become a Christian, and he would resign. Becoming a Christian meant that from now on, he wanted to live his life in accordance with his values, no longer doing things that did not feel right.

Over the next year he “received some wonderful offers” from people in the industry. He could have stepped back into the world he knew, joining another corporate, regaining status, security, and a good income, but he knew that chances were good that it would simply be a return to his previous life. Like Costa remembering the horror of crystal meth, he knew that he did not want to slip back into the kind of unhappy dissonance that he had known before. Instead, he formulated a plan for a new business, still in financial planning, but in which the clients would really always come first.

He started slowly, finding partners who shared his vision. The first half a dozen years were difficult, often almost desperate, but they made it work. In 2024, the business is highly successful. How do they avoid the lure of pure profit, instead sticking to the original ideals?

“With difficulty!” says Steve. “The business is achieving some financial success. So that’s great. Ooh, there’s that money story. (The question is:) Are we chasing the money, the profits, or are we sticking to what we are trying to do?”

His business partners are crucial. “We hold each other to account. Your value proposition is documented. It’s kind of, ‘That’s signed off guys, that’s the constitution. Do we all still believe in that? Let’s check in.’” Every now and then, they have what they call a “soft session” with a business coach, creating space where they can reflect on all of this. “Oh, it’s hard! These soft issues are uncomfortable! But that is the sort of business environment which myself and my partners want. But we have to be pulled back in line by each other.”

Similarly, Costa believes the people around him have made it possible for him not to relapse. ”I realised I don’t know how to do this. I cannot do it alone.” He describes the utter relief in being surrounded by others who understand. “That feeling of, ‘I don’t have to work it out myself.’” Being held accountable in this way, as Steve also reports, is not an easy or simple solution. “Other people give me suggestions that I don’t like,” says Costa. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like any of those suggestions. But they knew better than me. They had another day clean more than I did, so I listened.” Today, he feels “incredibly lucky. … I am surrounded by people who want me to stay clean. (There came a day when) I had more people in my phone who wanted to help me stop using drugs than people who wanted to use with me.”

“Change is a team sport,” says Dr Frank Magwegwe. Sometimes you need outsiders to help you plan. Sometimes they are crucial in the change moment itself. But always they are essential in making it stick.