Change Is Like New Shoes
On leaving a life you love for one you don't yet have.
The house was an echo last night. The echo of midnight crickets and the reverberation of three years’ worth of memories. It all flooded back to me as I lay on a camping sleeping pad in my own empty house, staring at the fan.
Transitions are strange, especially when you are limbo between leaving a life you love for one you don’t fully have yet. One part of you mourns what you’re leaving. The friends, family, favorite gym, Barton Springs, the coffee shop where they know your name and order by heart. But another part of you is ready to be somewhere entirely different and build a new kind of life.
Change is rarely easy. It’s a bit like a new pair of shoes you have to break in, going through the blister stage until they finally start feeling comfortable. But what happens when you’ve put in the mileage and they start wearing out? Would we let the dread of blisters stop us from getting a new pair?
That’s the dilemma I’ve found myself in. Stay or leave? Keep the old pair or get new ones, even if it comes with the risk of blisters?
Blisters are inevitable in anything worth trying. That’s why this week, seven years in east Austin come to a close.
As I vacuumed under the couch one last time, I felt something get stuck in the tube. I pulled it out and found a crinkled purple sticky note that had spent who knows how long living under my couch, cuddling with the dust bunnies.
I unwrinkled it and smiled when I read my own Sharpie handwriting:
“Don’t get too comfortable or you won’t be ready for what’s next.”
I first came across that phrase in 2017, when I was living in New York City in the middle of a big life change. Back then, it felt like a warning against stagnancy and the dangers of comfort.
In the years that followed, I created opportunities to step outside my comfort zone, intentionally. Back then I never would have called myself a backpacker, but when someone asked if I wanted to do a spontaneous three-month solo trip around the world, I said yes. Turns out I was exactly ready enough. The same was true for spending three months alone in a stranger's Paris apartment, for a 10-mile open water swim, and other roads that were unfamiliar. Every time I said yes before I felt ready, I became a little more ready for the next thing. Over time, that built a quiet tolerance for the unknown.
What does “ready” mean?
The quote says don’t get too comfortable or you won’t be ready. But what I’ve realized now is that if you keep saying yes to challenging things and keep choosing the winding path, you actually become ready. You end up not only creating opportunities for yourself, but becoming ready to see and accept the ones that come your way.
🌻
With one last look at my little house and its huge patch of sunflowers waving goodbye to me, I also waved at my friend who moved into my house to replace me. Our decisions don’t happen in isolation, we all impact one another. My decision to leave that house opened up the opportunity for her to move in and for her to write her next life chapter while I go out and write mine. Our readiness aligned.
The past few months, and honestly the past few years, I’ve been becoming ready for change. The biggest season of Long Way Home is in the works, and I’ll share more very soon. Hint: it’s time for new shoes.
I admire you for challenging life. This has allowed for a wide breadth of experiences, some enjoyable and some were tests, but all were learning experiences. I am sure that you will remember your time in Austin with fondness. Now lace up your shoes and find some new roads to travel, oh, and remember some blister cream. I look forward to hearing what is next.