Evolution is a painfully slow process, both in nature, and in me. I am very hesitant to change. I do a thing a way and that’s just the way I do that thing. Until I start to change the way I do the thing, that is. I start noticing minuscule changes, the tiniest shifts in behavior or method. My instinct upon noticing this is to fight back, to resist the change.
Suddenly I’m noticing more changes than ever before, and all at once, and they aren’t tiny shifts. No, these are momentous, immense changes in my behaviors and thought processes. Changes in my attitude, my personality, my core beliefs or fundamentals or values or something. I’m feeling these huge earthquakes of change, wave upon wave of new thoughts, ideas, beliefs, and behaviors. The tectonic plates that make up the whole of me feel like they’re all smashing together at once and creating volcanoes, sudden explosions, of new… everything. Just everything. All new and foreign and overwhelming and a wee bit crazy-making if I’m gonna be completely honest.
The construct of my life, the foundation that was laid, the frames and the walls and the roof I built around that foundation, is suddenly being challenged in such a way that feels… well, destructive, for sure. That construct isn’t just being challenged, it’s being bulldozed. And it can’t withstand the onslaught. There is too much change and it’s happening faster than I can patch the holes in the walls I’ve built around myself.
And why would I want to patch those holes, anyway? Why not just let it all be torn to bits, obliterated? Why not tear it down my damn self and build a new, better, stronger foundation?
I think then maybe I wouldn’t even need walls. Maybe just windows. A greenhouse, where new, beautiful, healthy things can grow, and everyone can see because I don’t need walls to hide behind anymore.