I’m sure I’ve written about this a number of times over the many years that I’ve been writing but it’s really the only thing that I can think of writing today because I’m so fucking tired.
Real change is hard, harder than we care to admit to ourselves. It’s easy to tell others to change but it’s infinitely more difficult for ourselves to undergo change.
The resistance is absolutely real and it’s substantive and it’s difficult to overcome. It can literally keep you from getting up in the morning if you’re not aware of its presence.
Even the more positive things in life will force you to change and it’ll be a painful transformative process. A perfect and contextually relevant example of this is the introduction to the fifth (and final) human being into our household.
It is great joy that we welcome him into our family but the consequence of his existence in our family routines and behavioral patterns and systems has not been small.
We have all had to pivot and change and evolve our individual and collective schedules. We have all shed tears because the change that is demanded upon us is nearly unbearable at times.
This feeling, of course, is amplified due to the lack of sleep and the general moodiness of all people in our household. There’s nothing to do but to put one foot in front of the other and not kill each other in the process.
And not that we’d do that (or even close) but the feeling is there that we’re damaging our existing relationships to accommodate and adjust to another. It feels wildly unfair but we willingly endure it for the greater end.
Change is hard, even when the results are so fundamentally good.