You know what sucks about big change?
That you think you know what’s going to happen but you really don’t.
Usually, it takes me a very long, contemplative time to come to a big decision.
There’s a lot of back and forth; a lot of turmoil, some broody angst present for a while.
Depression comes for a visit.
And then, I just can’t take the pressure, the inner conflict, the denial of truth any longer. I have to make a declaration.
So I do. I say it out loud. I write it down. I tell people. I make it real.
And I get relief. And that feels like a fucking high.
And then reality sets in. The slow, painful reality of change, of adaptation, of adjustment. The spaces in between are felt excruciatingly, the consequences of the decision making its way onto the physical plane.
And then the process of grief continues.
It takes the wind out of me.
And yet I know, that I have the desire to curl up and go back to where I was before. In a crying heap of despair and fear. Never mind how far I’ve come already.
Then I remember, I just have to get through this, moment by moment.
That is literally all I can do.
Keep the faith. Follow the current. Walk through the fire.
And break my own heart.