The Messy Side of Becoming

[My lovely teacher Martha Beck developed the Cycle of Change model that describes the process we go through with any major change. It begins with Square One: Death & Rebirth. I’ve been experiencing a lot of major change this year and getting intimately familiar with Square One. I thought I’d share my experience in hopes it sheds a little light for someone else.]

I think what’s so hard about Square 1 is the Death part. I have some friends who beautifully model a graceful embracing of death and dying. I value that quality and thought I was making strides towards that, but there’s this petulant part of me that is more like child that doesn’t want to go to sleep and miss something. I cling to who I once was, or what I thought I was, or, more aptly, my old way of thinking. The kicker is, even if I didn’t really completely like everything about who I once was, I still cling to it all just because of its familiarity, rather than seeing this as an opportunity to jettison those parts that weren’t working and create something new that fits better.

Logically, I know that death is a part of life, and that it’s the natural order and cycle of things. But emotionally, I struggle with the grief, fear, sadness, and anger. I fear the feelings will be permanent, so I resist them (thereby prolonging them, ironically). I try to mask my feelings, pretending everything’s fine, which takes so much more energy and creates dissonance inside me as my heart yearns to speak the truth. I dip my toe into the feelings and feel nearly overwhelmed by the undertow, so I quickly jump back on to the shore of resistance. There I am, clinging to the sand as the waves are sweeping it out of my clenched fists anyway. It’s painful to hold on, but I’m more afraid of letting go. But at some point, the pain gets to be too much, and I feel like quitting, giving up. “What’s the point of it all?” I feel like screaming.

Still petulant, I say to the Universe, “Fine! I give up!” and I let go. I let go of everything. I let go of my ideas and my dreams of who I thought I was and what I wanted so badly, and I let go of the pain of trying to be okay. I fall into the depths of my emotion. Falling, falling, I relax and let it carry me down. But then, I’m not down. There’s peace. Glorious peace that feels like a balm of contentment. Having finally let go, I can see new possibilities. I have so many more options than just the one I was clinging to. And I don’t have to let go of my dreams, it’s just the plans I had to get there that have changed.

I can see light again, the calm after the storm. And it feels so sweet. Still scary, as I navigate new territory that I haven’t been through before. I feel as vulnerable as a crab that’s just outgrown its shell, having split the old shelter and crawled my way out, I find that my new self is tender and exposed. But also hopeful. And I know the contrast between the storm and the peaceful aftermath are what make it so sweet, even though I wish I could bypass the storm altogether. (Maybe next time? Nah, probably not.)