When Change Feels Like Loss

When there is an expectation to feel a certain way, almost always do I feel the opposite. During birthday parties, graduations, retirement, or really any type of transitional or liminal period, aren’t you supposed to feel excited, happy, and joyful? It’s true that I may feel those emotions too, but I’ve found the strongest, most typical feeling is one of loss. I have lost those moments in time. They will retreat into the recesses of my maze-like memory and there they will stay. It creeps up on me, that realization. Leading up to the moment I am absorbed with a sense of anticipation: “I can’t wait!” “Not much longer,” “Time is ticking,” “Any day now!” A physiological tension can be felt, a preparation for the big change coming.

I don’t know what to expect. Looking back is what I hold onto because it makes sense, it’s all clear in hindsight. What lays ahead is a black door. To say that it represents the unknown would be too simplistic. The door has fangs and mean eyes and it’s snarling. Between myself and it, leaning against the frame, is a sword. It’s not calling to me, on the contrary, it’s giving me a smug look. It’s saying, “You don’t have the fortitude to face what’s on the other side.” It’s daring me to proceed. That’s why I don’t necessarily feel overjoyed when I reach a milestone in life. What I had was good, sure it was shitty at times, and sure, I’ll be glad that I’ve moved on. But at the moment, all I want to do is stay, suckling on the opioid of nostalgia and clarity, fearful of stepping into fog.

It’s not that I don’t think I can do it, I most certainly feel like I can. I’ve done more difficult things in the past, I’ve proven to myself time and time again that I'm capable. It’s just that I don’t want to let it all go. You’re never fully ready for what’s next, but it comes towards you nonetheless. You just need to pick up the sword and confront the snarling black door. There are more temporary good times ahead. This is all to say that life’s changes are bittersweet.