“Before you can live a part of you has to die. You have to let go of what could have been, how you should have acted and what you wish you would have said differently.
You have to accept that you can’t change the past experiences, opinions of others at that moment in time or outcomes from their choices or yours.
When you finally recognize that truth then you will understand the true meaning of forgiveness of yourself and others.
From this point you will finally be free.” Shannon L. Alder
My friend, Ben, is a change management expert. His whole job is to help companies roll out change, and then help teammates adjust to it.
It’s not where the paper goes now, or what time the meetings happen now, or where our desk is now that’s the hard part. It’s the emotional side to change that kicks us right in the seat of our pants, if we’re lucky. If we’re not, it hits us square in the chest. You know what I’m talking about. It’s this horrible, free floating, nothing-is-what-I-thought-it-was feeling.
Ben says that any change greater than 10% will rock the foundation of an organization. I don’t know how the 10% is calculated, but I do believe there’s a threshold.
Our grocery store changed recently. They’re in the same parking lot, just a few doors down from where they were. It’s bigger. It’s nicer. They have fresh sushi and STARBUCKS. The day they opened, I think people drove from an hour away to walk through the aisles and drink the coffee. I waited a few days for the parking lot to clear out, and walked through the crisp sliding glass doors into grocery Meca. There were people there I’ve never seen before in my life. I didn’t recognize one single person.
If felt like everything changed.
I didn’t know where to find anything, they carry different stuff now, and some of the stuff I normally buy isn’t available any more. I was so upset I got a headache. Over a GROCERY STORE.
Who knew my 10% would be whether or not they carry Uncle Ben’s Original Rice?! When the cashier asked me if I found everything ok, I said I couldn’t find the Uncle Ben’s Original Rice. She so sweetly left her cash register line to help me look – but it simply was. not. there. I got teary eyed. There was a large lump in my throat. I may have said something about “people who actually cook and don’t microwave every meal are not going to be able to shop here.” I seriously went to the customer service counter and asked them to special order it for me. In tears.
You guys, I turned into a crazy person over RICE.
Sometimes we can see change coming – I mean – I saw this grocery store being built for months. I thought I would like it. But then I didn’t. Now, I do, because my mom gets me Uncle Ben’s Original Rice from the store she goes to. But that’s beside the point.
We think if we expect it, it will be ok. It will soften the blow somehow. Does it? Maybe. Sudden change brings shock AND pain. Expected change is some shock, then a season of expectation, and eventually ends in pain.
The question is NOT whether or not change will be uncomfortable. It usually is. The question is what is on the other SIDE of change.
Sometimes we feel like we know. Sometimes we feel like the pain of change will be worth it in the end. Sometimes, we just know we can’t go on like we are and we’ll just take whatever comes. It’s gotta be better than where we are.
I’ve been through some change in the last few years. Divorce, death of a parent, transitioning from employee to business owner, learning how to live alone/run a business alone/sleep alone/vacation alone/parent alone.
None of it was easy. Most of it I saw coming. 100% of it still had moments that hurt.
Here’s the thing, dear one. When it’s time for a change, you just know. You feel it in every cell of your body.
When it’s time go to, you just go. When the storm hits – when you’re in the thick of it. When you’re standing at the new grocery store in tears, when you’re holding your heart broken child crying over your divorce, when you realize there is no more time for your Dad to become the parent you wanted him to, when you’re having to start over from scratch because you finally admitted what you were doing all those years was too broken to mend, take a moment. Take a deep breath. Try to remember why you lifted your foot to take the first step. Forge on.
Sometimes, the only way out is through.
You are so, so loved.