Navigating Change

Navigating Change

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Navigating Change

LinkedIn (and my mom) reminded me July 5th was my 22nd anniversary of leaving my corporate job to start my own practice. That was quite possibly one of the more terrifying things I've done, and, at the same time, it was incredibly rewarding. Actually, not “at the same time.” The rewarding part came way later. In the outdoor world, that's called Type 2 Fun: it's a sufferfest during the climb or the hike or the ride, and when you finish, you've never felt better.

I think back to the day after I gave notice at my job. I was in the passenger seat of the car, forehead against the window, rain streaming across the glass, me totally unhinged and terrified.

Next chapters are a funny thing. We hate them, and we need them, because a life without them isn't really a life, just a holding pattern. We have to weigh taking the leap vs. keeping the status quo.

Change comes in two flavors: the kind you choose to make, and the kind you didn't choose to make. Either way, they're "exciting," and I mean that word two ways at once: exciting like scary, and exciting like full of possibility. I use the ambiguity on purpose.

Forehead on the glass, I worried. What if I hate it? What if I can't get clients? What if...

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

I've written about Dr. Richard Schwartz a few times here and here. Dr. Schwartz is a systemic family therapist and the creator of Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, based on the idea that each of us is made up of "parts" that are constantly in dialogue with each other. That's our internal chatter. One part is excited to make the change. Another is terrified. One's causing the anxiety; another is pushing you to just screw it and move on.

Neither part is wrong or bad. Think of it as everyone is just after the same goal: Your safety and comfort. They just differ in how best to get you there.

Joseph Goldstein, co-founder of the Insight Meditation Society and a longtime student of Zen Buddhism, has spent a lot of his teaching in similar territory. He has said, “The only power our thoughts have is the power we give them.” Whoa.

If we put their thinking together, we get something like this: the internal dialogue never stops. What determines whether it moves you forward or keeps you stuck is which part (or thought) you decide to believe.

I didn't know any of this when I went through my own scary transitions. But looking back at the pattern, and after working with clients on their own, three things keep showing up. Three factors, or three barriers, depending on which part you listen to.

Permission - and giving it to yourself

If you think you can't do your thing because “it's never been done that way” or because “so many other people are already doing it,” I'd ask you to look again at both excuses.

"No one's done it that way" can just as easily mean nobody's tried, not that it can't work. And "everyone's doing it" ignores the fact that none of them have your specific stories, your specific mix of what you've done and what you're capable of. That's the actual differentiator, not the idea, but you.

I learned to stop waiting for permission. Stop waiting for someone else to have done it first, or said it first, before I let myself step into it.

Uncertainty - and welcoming it

Naturally, we want assurance that everything will be okay. We have bills to pay, people counting on us, and what if the next chapter gets in the way of that?

That's the part of you asking: what if this doesn't go as planned? It's not really about the plan. It's the fear of being untethered from what you knew.

If we welcome uncertainty and frame it as a time of possibility, what happens then?

Trust - but trusting yourself

I wrote about trusting yourself last month. What if you trusted the process; that even when it doesn't go as planned, it's opening a door you can't see yet? What if the rejection you got this morning is actually ok, because you just don't have the vantage point yet to know it?

It’s obviously impossible to live a life without change. Change is what keeps the brain (and the story) alive. It’s that Type 2 Fun. It might suck during, but the reward is often worth it.

If you're wondering what qualifies as "scary," it doesn't matter. If it scares you, it's scary. I'm not interested in rating or judging. I'm interested in each of us pushing past our own edge, doing the thing that makes us slightly terrified, and collecting the reward on the other side.

Because the world needs people doing work and life on their own terms.

Further reading and listening:

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The Summer of Creativity