This I Believe In: Change
In the past eighteen years of my life, I’ve been introduced to a number of different ideas and beliefs, but none have stuck with me other than the concept of change; a change in scenery, a change in language, a change in how my body functions and how I perceive the world and all it has to offer--which was virtually nothing.
Change is a disruptive adolescent that shows up to your doorstep at two o’clock in the morning and tells you that the train is leaving, throws a bag at you, and tells you to come along before it’s too late. You don’t know what the train is for, better yet you didn’t even know there was a train at all, but you take the bag and run, and you keep running until that train finds you. I’ve been running ever since. I don’t think change is scary; I think it’s a necessary evil. Change is what ruined my life, and change is what made it better.
Now is the paragraph where I tell you my life story and sob about my hardships and how I thought suicide was my only option, but that’s another story for another day. It’s an interesting story, at least I think it is, but it’s rather a cliche move, especially in essays like this. Maybe I don’t want the world to know my life story, because in the end, we’re only what we choose to be. I chose to be happy, or at least allowed myself to feel happy, and to feel in general. So far, it’s been a rewarding experience. Terrifying, no doubt, but a change in one institutionally designed to fail there must be an expectation of fear and reluctance.
Recently, I moved into an apartment with my boyfriend. I never thought I’d succeed in a relationship but he’s been patient and kind. I think he may be a little too patient and kind with me, but he believes it’s worth it. Of course there’s been arguments and bumps but at the end of the day, he’s shown me love, how to love, express myself in healthy ways, and everything else in between. His way of life has changed me to my being, but he isn’t the end of everything. If we ever break up, I’m not gonna suddenly revert to who I was before. I believe people are lessons; and they’re there for a reason.
The past year has been a series of changes for me. I took a gap year, I lost my mother, I worked a full-time job in a warehouse, I met the first person in my life I care about outside of myself and the small family I’ve scrambled to make, I created my own structure, I created my own home, I started school, and yet somehow I’m still afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to find change at my doorstep again. And it’s tempting sometimes to revert back into the person I was before. Sometimes I can feel my skin crack and the old, violent, malicious and bitter person I used to be is going to expel at any second and ruin what I have now.
But at the end of the day, the only way I could’ve moved forward in life was change. It’s daunting, and almost panic-inducing, but there was no room for progression if I stayed where I was. I can’t say I’m happy, and some part of me thinks I never will be, but that won’t stop change from trying. Because I know I feel much more happier than I was months ago, years ago, hell, when I came out of the womb. I’ve learned to accept change as my advisor. I’ve learned to accept change as a friend.
So the next time I hear a knock at my door, I’ll put on my running shoes and I won’t prepare for the worst. I won’t prepare for the best. I probably won’t prepare for it at all. I’ll use the skills I’ve learned so far to help me guide my way through new experiences, good and bad, and remember that this is what living is supposed to feel like. That this what change is supposed to feel like--like a breeze. This I believe.
In the past eighteen years of my life, I’ve been introduced to a number of different ideas and beliefs, but none have stuck with me other than the concept of change; a change in scenery, a change in language, a change in how my body functions and how I perceive the world and all it has to offer--which was virtually nothing.
Change is a disruptive adolescent that shows up to your doorstep at two o’clock in the morning and tells you that the train is leaving, throws a bag at you, and tells you to come along before it’s too late. You don’t know what the train is for, better yet you didn’t even know there was a train at all, but you take the bag and run, and you keep running until that train finds you. I’ve been running ever since. I don’t think change is scary; I think it’s a necessary evil. Change is what ruined my life, and change is what made it better.
Now is the paragraph where I tell you my life story and sob about my hardships and how I thought suicide was my only option, but that’s another story for another day. It’s an interesting story, at least I think it is, but it’s rather a cliche move, especially in essays like this. Maybe I don’t want the world to know my life story, because in the end, we’re only what we choose to be. I chose to be happy, or at least allowed myself to feel happy, and to feel in general. So far, it’s been a rewarding experience. Terrifying, no doubt, but a change in one institutionally designed to fail there must be an expectation of fear and reluctance.
Recently, I moved into an apartment with my boyfriend. I never thought I’d succeed in a relationship but he’s been patient and kind. I think he may be a little too patient and kind with me, but he believes it’s worth it. Of course there’s been arguments and bumps but at the end of the day, he’s shown me love, how to love, express myself in healthy ways, and everything else in between. His way of life has changed me to my being, but he isn’t the end of everything. If we ever break up, I’m not gonna suddenly revert to who I was before. I believe people are lessons; and they’re there for a reason.
The past year has been a series of changes for me. I took a gap year, I lost my mother, I worked a full-time job in a warehouse, I met the first person in my life I care about outside of myself and the small family I’ve scrambled to make, I created my own structure, I created my own home, I started school, and yet somehow I’m still afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to find change at my doorstep again. And it’s tempting sometimes to revert back into the person I was before. Sometimes I can feel my skin crack and the old, violent, malicious and bitter person I used to be is going to expel at any second and ruin what I have now.
But at the end of the day, the only way I could’ve moved forward in life was change. It’s daunting, and almost panic-inducing, but there was no room for progression if I stayed where I was. I can’t say I’m happy, and some part of me thinks I never will be, but that won’t stop change from trying. Because I know I feel much more happier than I was months ago, years ago, hell, when I came out of the womb. I’ve learned to accept change as my advisor. I’ve learned to accept change as a friend.
So the next time I hear a knock at my door, I’ll put on my running shoes and I won’t prepare for the worst. I won’t prepare for the best. I probably won’t prepare for it at all. I’ll use the skills I’ve learned so far to help me guide my way through new experiences, good and bad, and remember that this is what living is supposed to feel like. That this what change is supposed to feel like--like a breeze. This I believe.
My favorite This I Believe articles:
- "Getting Angry Can Be A Good Thing" by Celia Munoz: https://thisibelieve.org/essay/2/
- "We Need A Revolution" by Carol Besse: https://thisibelieve.org/essay/73058/
- "The American Dream Lives On" by Yasmina Shaush: https://thisibelieve.org/essay/92252/