Today I was reflecting on how much I used to fear change, how tightly I would grasp onto relationships and experiences that were only meant to be there for a moment in time.
Fear of change is that unwillingness to let go of something, someone, some place, believing it will somehow halt the inevitable catapult into the unknown. That messy, middle gray area, before the certainty of a new situation has emerged. Gosh, the fear is visceral. I can feel the anxious swirl in my stomach. Does it sound familiar to you?
Now, I’m not saying change never bothers me anymore, it does. I’m human. More than anything right now, I want stability. And stability and change butt heads like two people unwilling to concede any ground in an argument.
But I am also recognizing how far I’ve come with regards to change, and I credit this growth to my experience with chronic illness.
Everything is constantly changing when you’re sick: your abilities, your meds, your doctors, your insurance, your future plans, your self-concept. Just as you start to adjust to a certain type of life, a certain “routine”, a certain acceptance, chronic illness swooshes in and throws another curveball your way.
Managing the emotional impact of chronic illness requires a turbo level of willingness to welcome change, a level that most people cannot fathom. And change happens not just in the big changes, but in many small ones every single day. Exhausting.
i’ve grown 💗
I full-heartedly believe that illness has prepared me to weather this current time in my life, a time marked by unnerving, constant change.
And I’m feeling deep appreciation and pride for how far I’ve come in my relationship with change.
I’m no longer the little girl who rehearsed every possible response in her head on repeat when she was uncertain.
I’m no longer the young adult, who tried (unsuccessfully) to do everything in her power to make the world stop moving around her, instead of accepting reality.
I am approaching each day as it comes, both because I have to and because the truth is there is no other way to live. But also because I carry a deep sense of self-trust that I will meet life’s challenges as they arise.
I now know in my bones that I cannot plan for every possible outcome—I never planned to get sick after all—I can only respond to life as it unfolds in front of me.
That’s a pretty cool perspective from someone who used to hate change.
Sending lots of love for joy and healing always <3,
Dr. Talia
Reflection for you: How do you relate to change? How does your illness impact your experience of change?
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Some previous posts you may enjoy:
other things about me; where art thou, ambition?; i’m done shaming myself for ordering food delivery
Submit a question here for Ask Dr. Talia. This segments gives subscribers the opportunity to submit questions about managing the emotional impact of chronic illness. Questions about experiences that your friends, family, and even therapist may not understand. I’ll answer questions with research, a personal reflection, and tools you can use right now.
When I was deep in the throes of Lyme disease, someone suggested I read "When Things Fall Apart" by Pema Chödrön, and it opened my eyes (WIDE!) to this idea. I kept trying to get my feet back under me, but the truth was—they were never going to be under me again. And fighting against reality was causing me so much turmoil. It is scary to accept that the rug can be pulled out from under you at any moment, but once I did, peace started to creep in.
I really appreciate how you’ve put into words this experience. I totally relate