I’ve spent almost the last 3 years mourning my old self, lamenting the past. I think a lot of people do this, whether or not they’ve faced cancer or another life-altering trauma. I believe it’s a form of anxious attachment to perceived comfort and stability; we feel safe in the known, even if the known isn’t safe or serving us.
Add to that, it’s so easy to look back with rose-colored glasses, to pretend everything was perfect “then”. Looking forward requires vulnerability. It’s scary to become someone new, to face uncertainty, to change. It’s scary to trust that we will not only survive, but thrive.
So many times we get stuck in the trap of ruminating on all the things we can’t change. We embrace mediocrity and suffering because it’s more comfortable than flinging ourselves out into the unknown and hoping we somehow grew wings while we were waiting for the right moment.
But here’s the secret I learned when I finally let go and leapt: the wings were always there. They just never had room to help me fly when I kept them close to my body, afraid to use them.