River of Misery
Change is hard.
I’m not talking about the exciting part—the part where your imagination is creating all kinds of new realities built around the person you want to be instead of who you currently are. That part of change is fun…intoxicating, even. The change that is hard—that is real—comes after the pretend stuff. This change looks like getting up when your alarm goes off and you’re exhausted. It look like going to the gym consistently, even when you HATE it. It looks like choosing sleep over another episode of your favorite show.
Real change is brutal.
Change requires some swimming in the River of Misery.
You read that right.
The River of Misery. (I think it deserves to be capitalized.)
There are many reasons why the river is miserable.
One, you are trying to change something, which means you are leaving old patterns of behavior, patterns of thinking, and even friend groups. Familiarity is EASY, so we often drift back into set ways. We love being comfortable, and like a favorite pair of sweats, our default ways are really enticing.
Two, we are bad at failing. Period. We see ultra-successful people talk about how they failed A LOT, but we only see the success. Then we convince ourselves that we can be different! We can change and improve without ever having to fail—right?
Three, we only step in the river up to our knees. We never actually DO anything. Well, we watch inspirational videos and podcasts and think and plan and dream and talk with our friends…but we never get in. The river looks miserable. Too miserable for us. Maybe I just need to know a little bit more first? 🙄
Lastly, people around us don’t love change. The support we want is sometimes slow in coming, and sometimes it doesn’t come at all. We want applause and encouragement, and we often are met with resistance and mocking. It can be a beat down.
Very recently, I’ve stepped into the River of Misery. It’s been miserable for all the reasons listed above. But I know what I’m trying to create, who I’m trying to become, and that little glimmer of light on the other side of this dang river is enough. There is no way around it.
What I do know is this—it won’t last forever.
