A Rite of Passage
There came a time when I had to toughen myself up to what was. To remember the place and time I was living in was “For Now.” It wasn’t permanent. The situation would improve, so I dug deep into the emotions that fueled my pain and hung on for a wild ride.
That “Wild Ride” was around changes I had made in my life. Not just any little change like changing the color of nail polish. It was significant. It was a place where the waters are dark and murky; the unknown is looming around the corner. That place – where the uncertainty lies – a place where courage is needed to survive the transition. I found it essential to remind myself that crying was okay, but screaming, “what did I do to myself?” was not okay.
Because, to move forward and get out of the uncertainty, I needed to ask myself better questions.
Questions like –
How can I make this situation better?
What am I grateful for at this moment in time, for today?
What can I do NOW to relieve the pain?
Time would ease the pain, and my ability to manifest how I wanted things to be was strong. I just had to tap into that and trust the process.
It was not the first time I had moved and made a career change within my field. It was not the first time I felt lonely, sad, longing for family, friends, and all things familiar. All the people and places that brought certainty to my life were in another part of the state. I was in the process of shedding the old and trying on the new.
Boy, was I trying on the new!
I dove in deep with the new job, so much so that I worked endlessly. It was easy to do because I had no one to go home with or for. The busier I stayed, the less I felt uncertain. And, the more pain, I avoided.
I liken all of this transition much to running a marathon. You start out running three miles, then five, and before you know it, you are running ten miles. Ten miles that you never dreamed you could do. Next thing you know, a robust distance of fifteen and then eighteen miles is part of the routine. The final training run; twenty-one miles, the cut off just before the race. Then race day comes, and you push through those last 5.2 miles. Then sweet victory as you cross the finish line.
With arms extended to the sky, a smile on your face, the announcer calls out your bib number and name, the greeter on the other side of the finish line telling you, great job. You did it; you are all done.
It is a sweet feeling of accomplishment. All that hard work paid off; you made it. Next come recovery and the setting of yet another goal.
What race will I run next?
What dream will I realize?
What do I want next in life?
Running a marathon is a “Rite of Passage.” It is a place where transformation happens. You relinquish control, uncertain if you can achieve the final victory but holding a belief that you can execute the race. It is where you have to put on the game face and tough it out, knowing the only thing you can control is putting in the training miles.
You gather a tribe of like-minded people around you and persevere. The transition from being a novice runner to joining the ranks of those that have gone before requires dedication and newfound strength to make it across the finish line.
So, seven weeks into that transformational time, I was the only one who could set the pace. I gathered my tribe and found support and encouragement to persevere. I found the key to victory and crossed the finish line. It is not easy to let go of control or to trust the process.
What life transitions might you be facing?
Is there something in your life left unfinished?
Do you have a tribe that can offer the support needed to finish the race to cross the finish line?
If you would like to finish the race, cross the finish line, or find that new goal – I’m here.