Why Am I Afraid of Change?

As we enter a new year, a thousand thoughts, mostly about change, flood my mind. That’s what the New Year is all about. We finally decided to change something about our lives.

For some, it’s a rekindling of the desire to shed a few pounds and slim that waistline. For others, it’s not just about how the clothes fit; instead, it’s a decision to examine deeper aspects of health, like improving cardio or lowering blood pressure. But then some decide to tackle the tough topics of mental health, complicated relationships, and acceptance of oneself and others.

No matter where you decide to place your efforts during those first few weeks of the year, the hard work is not just found at the start of the process but in the aftermath of each decision you make.

Waking up early to exercise is wonderful until you’re utterly exhausted on day four. Eating fewer calories while producing great results becomes exponentially harder when it’s date night or dessert lands on the table.

Finally, leaving that toxic relationship is the right move, but it brings days and weeks of overwhelming loneliness. Deciding to focus on your emotional needs and well-being is necessary, but uncovering difficult truths from your childhood and others around you can be shocking, frustrating, and disheartening.

I’m convinced that the aftermath keeps us from change. It’s not the prospect of something new; it’s the inevitable tug-of-war with the old.

Over the last two years, I’ve encountered some of the most difficult changes in my adult life. The first big change was a walk away from a career I thought would last a lifetime. Was it a decision that came out of the blue? No, it wasn’t.

It was a decision born over many years, planted in frustration, and watered with tears and prayers.

As I continued to trudge through a career that I once loved, I slowly realized that I had changed, and it was no longer for me. And that’s okay. Dreams and passions can change. Life is too short to stay stuck. So, I stepped out on a limb, said goodbye to what I knew, and braced for the aftermath. And it was more difficult than I had imagined.

It was a severing of many things for me. Suddenly, I was staring in the mirror at someone who didn’t seem to have a purpose anymore. If I’m not a teacher, then who am I? If I don’t have students, am I still a teacher? If I don’t work in that school, are we still friends? Will my students understand my exit? What if my new endeavor fails? How do I explain my decision to those who don’t understand?

The questions in my mind were endless, as were the sleepless nights and more than a few tears.

It wasn’t because I felt that I had made the wrong decision. It was because everyone else looked at me as if I did.

And their stares penetrated my already torn heart to do more damage. It’s the aftermath. Everyone fears the aftermath.

I’m standing alongside you, staring at an uncertain January. You see, my changes aren’t over. There are more to come, and the future ahead is even more drastic than my past. But it’s okay. You’re okay.

That’s the beauty of change. At first, it seems like one giant monster you can’t possibly overcome, but once you finally jump off the ledge, you realize that the world doesn’t come crashing down. The sun still sets and rises whether friends surround you or simply stand alone with God by your side. And He doesn’t leave us on that first or 100th step while wading through the devastating aftermath.

I’m here today as a testament that the change was worth it—every change has been.

Great things are born from difficult circumstances, and character is forged in the fire.

The journey of discovering yourself and who God made you is more valuable than being understood by others, held hostage by fear, and trading your dreams for the “safety” of what society thinks.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Let’s go.