Fall down seven times, stand up eight. I say that a lot, and every time I do, I thank the teacher from whom I heard it. And that's what good teachers do--they leave us with these little tokens, little river stones worn smooth by their own experience and passed down with great care to those who have come for the lesson.
Good teachers know the absolute value of balance--that everything we do (or don't do) has a reverberation--immediate or otherwise. There can be no moving forward without some kind of displacement. Usually we don't mind--we'll move that old habit, belief, misconception, fear out of the way, making room for this new thing.
But sometimes those displaced things have taken root--and that hurts to remove. Good teachers know that, too. So they wait. They wait to let those roots wither on their own--and they will, if you can stop feeding that habit/belief/misconception/fear. That organic mass of stuff that is you and your capacity to grow will reabsorb those old roots, churn them into something new, something fertile, something willing to be taught, willing to expand, willing to go deep.