Have the Courage to Embrace Change.

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.”

― Anais Nin

Let’s talk about the big C word. Change is good. Change is nice. Change is hard (for some). Yesterday I was chatting with a student who, like me, doesn't like change. Why, I ask? Because I like routine. Because I like predictability. Understandable. But maybe you’re a person who prefers every day to be a little different than the last? Maybe you embrace change?

Why is it that some people have such a hard time with change?

If my day is planned out, then I can predict what to wear, what to anticipate, what to eat for lunch, and how to manage my mindset. It’s control. I’ve been like this since I can remember. I would do my laundry so that my brown striped Limited Too t-shirt was clean for the next day because it matched my brown leggings. I was in third grade. A little OCD? Sure. It’s all I knew. In our house, I had a bunch of siblings and my parents were always busy and my inner voice never shut the hell up. Yet, I could stand still and catch my breath as the laundry cycle buzzed to an end and I pulled out my warm, fluffed-clean shirt. Ah, I will be prepared for Thursday. A wave of calm rushed over me. My outfit was ready. I had planned.

To me, unpredictability equates to chaos. But what happens when I let go of control and allow in a little more freedom? Can I forgo rigidity in favor of relaxing into the unknown?

Dating in my thirties helped me relax - a little. I became more like water. Free-flowing. I still had boundaries. I still created boundaries. I still had my schedule and my personal life to attend to first. But dating helped me to relax - even just a little. 

It also helps to have adventurous friends and date adventurous people. Ones who allow you to unfold, ones who know you’re a control freak - or ADHD- but want to test the waters and show you a cool hidden spot at the end of a hike in Long Beach or help hoist you up and over a big metal gate to trespass through an avocado farm for a romantic walk after dark. I’d think, These people are nuts! What are we doing? We’ll get caught! What if we get in trouble? What if someone gets hurt? What if we slip and fall? My rigidity ignited my fears. Over and over and away. Control meant I could not just control my behavior, but I could control my mind.

See, I love my adventurous friends. I love my adventurous boyfriend. Because they aren’t me. I often bore myself with routine. But routine is all I know. My discipline keeps me healthy, both mentally and physically. So I love it when I make plans with my more spontaneous counterparts - I almost get a little nervous - not knowing what’s around the river bend. Although I’ve come to realize that people who seem more adventurous might actually have plans, they just look a little different than mine. Maybe they aren’t mapping out their meals for the day or crossing off their iPhone to-do checklists. Maybe they are planning on seeing where the day takes them, seeing more of the world, more of what’s OUT THERE. Allowing themselves to be more free-flowing, be more like water.

Big change can sneak up on us quickly - a promotion, a new job, the loss of a job, a move, work stress, the death of a friend, a pregnancy, the sickness of a loved one, and all the other stuff in the background on the TV or radio or water cooler talk at work. 

Big change can widen the window of opportunity. Without change we wouldn’t be pushed outside our comfort zones. It’s easy to fall into daily life patterns of mere existence. It’s harder to make big leaps of faith. Those big leaps of faith are terrifying - trust me. When we moved to the East Coast in 2022 I almost had a panic attack in the weeks leading up to THE MOVE. While packing boxes of books and bubble-wrapping mirrors and family photos, I kept wondering What will it be like? Is this the right decision? I was so consumed with the thoughts of the unknown that I floated out of the present moment too often, forgetting to stay grounded, forgetting that I WAS currently living a life in Orange County before THE MOVE. I think I spaced out a bit. I forgot what my inner self really wanted. See the thing is, I WANTED to move. I wanted change, badly. I was craving it. 

During the pandemic, I was daydreaming about packing up my life and heading north to San Francisco. I was Zillowing and saving “hardwood floors, light and bright” studio apartments all around the city. I was fantasizing for a change. I had done it before for college. I’ll do it again, I thought. I had been in Irvine for more than 10 years after college. I can, and should, push myself to do something different. 

Then I met someone. And in those whirlwind weeks and months of courtship, I knew I didn’t want to be apart from him. So I stayed. I did what I had been doing for years - staying in my comfort zone. However, when he started suggesting we try our hand at a new adventure and move to the East Coast, I was hesitant. I thought it was a joke. I couldn’t possibly venture cross-country! It’s too far! What about my work? What about my family and friends? But his playful smile and twinkling eyes had my heart. “It’ll all work out.” He’s an optimist. I love that for him.

We decided to move. If I didn’t want to go, we would have stayed. But my higher self called in this person, this chance, this change, to test me. It doesn't mean staying would’ve been bad, and it doesn't mean that leaving would’ve been good. All I knew was in front of me - there was a choice. There were two paths. Pick one. Stick to your word. Try it out. What’s the worst that could happen? (Don’t ask someone with intrusive thoughts because I can’t even TELL you all the ways in which I imagined life would burn in flames!)

So we packed the POD, we packed the cars to the brim, we drove cross-country, we consumed many energy drinks, we laughed, *I cried, we settled into a new city, a new apartment, a new lifestyle, a new rhythm. Change for me meant finally starting to build a website I had put on the back-burner for too many years. Change meant I had even more time to read and take nature walks. Change meant I had easy boundaries in place for social events - I didn’t even have to say “no” when I wasn’t there to begin with. Change meant I started listening to the birdsong in the mornings, I started sitting in silence while watching snowflakes fall into white blankets, I started observing the first sprigs of yellow Spring daffodils after the snow melt, I started writing. I started using my voice and opening my throat chakra. Words that have been sitting dormant in my heart poured out of me like water. Change meant I had time to think. I thought a lot about what makes my soul happy. What fills me with joy. What brings me pleasure. And I thought a lot about what I don’t want in life. What I don’t find meaningful. What doesn’t bring me happiness.

Time in solitude and time spent in nature helped me find new parts of myself. Parts I didn’t know existed. I found strength in being far away from family and friends. Sure, there was a lot of loneliness, but I’ve always felt a little lonely. I’ve understood that loneliness is something that my soul has decided to experience during this time around the sun. Feeling lonely isn’t a curse - it’s a challenge to seek out the deeper parts, the deeper waters. I wasn’t merely skimming the surface anymore. Picture standing in the ocean surf, the white frothy tide coming in and out, and you can see through the clear turquoise. You can wiggle your toes in the sand. That’s a nice feeling, to see your toes. We get a little nervous when we walk into the deeper parts, the darker waters, the heavier blues. Those parts feel dangerous. Those parts feel obscure. I walked into those ambiguous waters. I couldn’t always see my toes. I experienced profound change. 

Change taught me more about myself. See, I told you I didn’t like change, but I also really really really don’t like regret. I would have thought about the opportunity. I would have fantasized about all the possibilities of a New England life. I would’ve always imagined What if?

What I learned most about myself through our two-year stint on the eastern seaboard, is that I am pretty damn adventurous and brave. And strong. And fun. And I can do anything. I have courage. I did it. I will do it again. I don’t know what IT means right now. But if an opportunity presents itself, I shall think about it, and I may take it.

Change is hard. But not changing is harder. Not changing is not growing. And I love to grow. I want to water my world until it grows so large that when the day comes to leave the earth behind, I don’t merely squeak out my last words of I regret this and I regret that. I want to rest easy knowing I did hard things. I embraced change. I let my world unfold. I let opportunities present themselves to me, for me. I learned. I regret nothing. 

So is change hard? Yes, for some. But what’s harder is accepting that you don’t know the other story. So next time change presents itself, seize it. You never know what’s waiting on the other side.