It’s one thing to talk about change, and growth, and evolution; and it’s another to go through it, to be going through it, and to forecast a shitload more of it.
When I talk with clients or friends or whoever about evolving or just plain being better than you were a minute ago, I don’t do it lightly, because it ain’t pretty, and it ain’t easy.
I get that we all have “seasons of change.” Doesn’t that sound pretty? Fall is a season, and I like fall. But when we’re really growing, it’s more like calling it a happy little “season” of waterboarding, a season of gut-wrenching, tear-inducing, stabbing-of-all-things-sacred. That kinda “season.” It’s not easy, and so it begs the question…
How will we face it?
There are options available here. You can numb your pain – that’s good for a bit, but the side effects can really suck. You can hide your pain with productivity. Work is an awesome diversionary tactic that also has you looking skilful and thoughtful and dodging any social stigma (it’s a good one). We can ignore it and just cry when we’re alone in the fucking dark. Or we can heal.
Healing requires a decision. There’s a point where we make the decision to step up, or not step up and that decision seems to point to what the rest of our existence might look like. But there’s more, because it’s not just about deciding to “step up.” That part’s actually pretty easy.
The real decision is “how.” I can step up with anger. I can do it with surrender (I’m not really prone to that one). I can do it tentatively, or bravely, or softly, or in a hundred different ways. And that’s when some writing by Anita Krizzan showed up.
“Rip me out of my life and change me. Kiss my fears and love me back to existence.”
So here’s a fact: I’d rather not be ripped from my life, nor changed. And I’d rather have some love-of-my-life kiss my fears and love me back to existence. It’s just how it is for me. And that’s not going to happen. I have ripped myself from my life. I have caused dramatic change that is not without its traumas. And now it’s my job to kiss my own fucking fears, and love myself back to existence. I’m doing it. But for those of you who know me, when I seem off sometimes, odds are you’re getting me on a day when I don’t want to do any of that, but am doing it nonetheless.
And I hate it.