Wrapping up my life in Phoenix is posing an emotional challenge that has completely sideswiped me. My excitement for grad school, moving to Seattle, and leaving the hell-like weather of Arizona behind, has overshadowed the reality that leaving my family, my friends, and a comfortable job, is quite painful. I didn’t realize that saying “goodbye” to some of these people, those who left their thumbprint on my heart, doesn’t feel good.
This is painful.
Leaving is painful.
Change is painful.
Instead of packing my belongings, I wish I could pack up my life – my home, my family, my friends – in a suitcase and bring everything and everyone with me to the Pacific Northwest. Oh, God, let me bypass the pain of leaving comfort behind and skip to the good part.
Why does change have to be so painful? Why is it necessary for discomfort to be such an integral part of growth?
Can growth happen without the pain of change?
There are a ton of metaphors, anecdotes, and spiritual quips about why pain is necessary for the growth in change, but in the middle of discomfort, all I want to do is hole up in my room, lock the door, and scream “F*** you!” to the world.
I don’t like this, but this is necessary. This is meaningful work. This is growth.
As much as I’d love to run away from painful change and discomfort, and skip to the good parts of living in a new and exciting place, maybe the metaphors, anecdotes, and spiritual quips are truly what I need? Maybe I need the gritty, earthy, squirm-in-your-seat, uneasiness of movement to be grown and molded into the woman God desires me to be? Maybe change is [always] painful for a reason?
As I suck the air out of space bags filled with years of summer clothes, and fill cardboard boxes to the brim, my hope is that the pain of change foreshadows the blessings of a new life.