You May Experience Moderate Turbulence

On change, transitions, and bravery.

It’s chafing season, and I’m not talking about the friction of denim shorts between sticky thighs. I’m talking about metaphorical chafing: the kind when you can feel that life is pushing you in another direction, and instinct cannot help but to dig its heels into the ground and scream at you not to turn. There are changes that we choose for ourselves, and there are changes that feel inevitable. The latter is like the part of the rollercoaster where all the lights go out.

“Just go with the flow!” Pinterest tells me in an illustrated typeface. Is that a threat? I retort, my eyes narrowing to slits as I save images of a Nina Park lip to distract myself from the earthquake coming my way. I am so acutely tuned to the rhythm of my life that every tremor rattles me.

It’s fun to ponder on the ways you’d like your life to change; who you’d be if your dreams came true. Actually doing it? Vomit inducing.

Allow me to introduce you to the anxious brain. It’s only here to keep you safe, to make sure that you are fully equipped should a tiger start chasing you on Kensington High Street. “That would never happen!” They cry. You say that, but all it takes is one hefty mistake at London Zoo. My anxious brain has a comfort zone. It stretches from my bedroom all the way to the office and back. Try and lead it astray and it will bite you.

Growing up, my favourite movie was The Little Mermaid. Ariel may have been longing to explore the human world, but I was more interested in life under the sea. All those hidden alcoves, unfamiliar creatures, strange plants that looked alien to my child-sized mind. I wanted to explore it, this unknown, just like Ariel did. She follows this instinct, headstrong and fearless. That is where our similarities diminish. To endeavour out further than my safe zone would mean change: it was a discomfort I wasn’t brave enough to sit with.

Transition periods are, frankly, horrific. They itch, they burn, they test your patience. As someone with goals a lot of people would deem delusional, it’s a sensation I’ve encountered numerous times. It’s also my biggest hurdle. Not once have I sat through the pain of a transition period long enough to get to the other side. This is how I know I wouldn’t last five minutes if I were ever to be interrogated by MI5. Which I wouldn’t be because I’m very well behaved.

To follow through with something that scares you means being brave. Perhaps this is stating the obvious, but I think being brave requires you to have something to be brave for. The outcome must have greater worth than the risk it takes to get there. Sometimes we have to be brave for people, because we love them so much that loving them alone is all the motivation we need to persist through hardship. Sometimes we have to be brave because we owe it to ourselves – the thought of not being brave and staying where we are is something we simply cannot live with. Maybe that’s what love is – someone, or something, you are willing to be brave for.

Not all good things are on the other side of difficult, but lots of things are, and I think it’s important to remember that the next time you consider doing something but stop yourself because it might be hard. Instead of thinking about how difficult, or how much effort something might take, wonder if you’re willing to be brave for it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not brave at the best of times. I still have to give the spiders in my room first names and backstories before I attempt to show them out. But I do it anyway, because I know that a restful night’s sleep is minus one spider away.