Becoming, Lucy

The scariest thing about change is that it’s irreversible.

You probably read that twice. Or maybe a handful of times. Or even just stared at it and spiralled, if you’re anything like me. My initial thought was ‘nothing is irreversible’ but… I couldn’t think of a single situation.

Literally speaking, you can turn a light on and then reverse it by turning it off. But you still turned it on. You can’t go back and undo that action. It still existed in that present moment until it became the past. You can’t change the past. You can’t change the present. But you can affect the future.

As humans we are so scared of change and I don’t think I really understood why until I read that statement. What has been done cannot be undone. Each action affects another. It’s another sentence written in the chapter.

When I realised this, it put everything into perspective for me. I stayed in places I shouldn’t have too long. Accepted things I shouldn’t have. All because I was afraid of change. I sat with knowledge for months, too scared to speak it into existence because once I did, I wouldn’t be able to take it back. The ending would’ve been written before I could figure out the rest of the chapter for myself.

Fear is what kept me rooted to the same spot, the same cycles for months… Fuck. Years. Now I’m out the other side, it’s really hard to not want to go back and just grab my hand and pull me through it sooner. And… That thought is devastating because staying was also irreversible. It’s etched into my skin.

I can’t undo what I endured simply because I was scared of not knowing the future. That’s bittersweet. Time kept writing the chapter long after it should’ve been closed. All because I convinced myself – I gave myself hope – that maybe things could change.

Fear tricked me into thinking life would stay the same if I stayed. That life would pause and wait for me to catch up.

But it didn’t.

Instead, each situation sank deeper into my skin until there was no coming back from it.

Irreversible.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, but it’s a statement that stopped me in my tracks. If I was a car (kachow), you would’ve heard my tyres screeching, seen smoke curling as I stopped and just froze. Because what do you mean I won’t do something because I can’t undo it? No matter how much I want to do it? What do you mean fear is the thing holding me back from nearly all decisions?

Who taught me this fear? Is it a biological response or was it learned?

I could answer those questions, or at least explore the topic of nature vs nurture – we all know it can be argued back and forth – but I’m not sure I want to remind myself of my psychology lessons.

I think the question I should be asking is what would my life look like if fear didn’t exist? I’m not sure I like that question though; it just puts me into an existential crisis.

I’m stuck with where I want this to go. I don’t want to write for the sake of writing and take routes I wouldn’t normally take. Or force myself into answers I don’t truly believe.

All I know is fear held me back for so long and there is such a fine line between hating myself for it and loving myself for ensuring I was safe enough before I pushed past it.

Maybe that’s what this is about. Maybe it’s learning that fear is a necessary emotion. Maybe it’s making sure you don’t let it control you completely to the point where the chapter in your story is just sentences being repeated over and over.

It’s reminding myself that no one knows the outcome until the first move is made.

See? I’ve done it again. I’ve tried to resolve it. Tried to make myself feel better.

But I don’t want to resolve it.

Humans have this beautiful ability to live with tension. Conflicted emotions. Fear and hope warring within. There is something beautiful about still hoping through the fear and still taking that first step that could change the whole story.

Holy. Shit.

That’s it.

Change is irreversible but so is the lasting effect of finally making that decision on your nervous system. Every time you take that step, you learn each time that life doesn’t explode. It might feel like it does at first, it might feel like the world is collapsing inwards. But in reality, the whole story is just shifting because you stepped outside the fear.

Not changing things left irreversible damage. But changing had an irreversible impact that I will be grateful for. Fear was stopping me from rewriting the story. Now fear is the thing keeping me going because I no longer want to go back.