No Stranger to Change

The unknown is scary. Being unsure of what’s to come, if your feet will find solid ground, or if the direction you’re traveling is taking you someplace safe. Oftentimes, we don’t move for fear of what’s to come. It’s impossible to know if it’s better or worse. Impossible to know if it’s right or wrong.

No one has gotten where they are by chance alone. I had to have the courage to be content with being uncomfortable. It doesn’t come without fears or doubts or tears–so many tears.

I had to have the courage to be content with being uncomfortable.

I don’t pretend to know what I’m doing. Or where I’m going. All I know is I haven’t stopped yet. I am no stranger to change. I’ve moved around the country, in a constant state of figuring out where I am. When I got comfortable–when I felt like I understood things–it was something new somewhere new.

The only stability I felt was in understanding change. My roots knew not to dig too deep, but to thrive quickly where I was planted, because in an instant, I’d be plucked from the earth. Maybe this prepared me for a big life change. It allowed me to push myself to follow my dreams. It gave me strength to make it on my own and build something new. To adapt. To grow.

It also exhausted me. Ran me down. Chewed me up and spit me out.

Being an outsider is funny. Rarely are outsider views pleasant or understanding. But we can’t blame those who are strangers to change.

Sitting in unhappiness is comfortable. The known. At least it’s consistent. At least it’s understood. To be bold enough to willingly march into the dark without a torch is simply barbaric.

But to those like me, the ones whose hands are interlaced with change, we continue on in hopes that one day we find exactly where our roots can grow deep.