The Ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus once said, “The only constant is change.” I feel like I’m the permanent poster child for this, but the past few weeks have been quite the quantum leap.

It hit me in the middle of teaching Sunday School class, (which, just that in and of itself is something I never thought I’d say) and it’s been on my mind ever since. I’m not really quite sure when it started, and I’m by no means executing it all well (see “teaching Sunday school” above), but I’m taking note of every moment filled with something new and different, forcing myself out of my shell.

Like this evening: I recognized the beginning of a spiral, named it, and immediately started a paced breathing exercise. I tried a distraction activity (watching a comfort show), but my brain continued. I felt the dizzy, my lips went cold, my mind detached itself from my body, yet I could hear my heartbeat. I laid down on the couch, pulled my favorite blanket over me, and walked through a grounding technique. An anxiety attack. No escalation or ideation. Handled completely on my own.

Or last Monday, when I finally threw out all of the ex-girlfriend’s remaining things she never asked for or came to claim. A step towards acceptance, letting go, and looking forward to the future. I definitely experienced a slew of conflicting emotions, but ultimately, I felt… free.

But it’s not just the feeling of freedom. It’s the sense of peace I feel when I set my worries about “what might” be to enjoy “what is.” It’s the confidence I’m finally finding in myself as a person and a partner, and letting it shine through, albeit in brief slivers of time. It’s recognizing the version of me that shows up when I communicate with someone and using that as a bell weather for what type of connection is possible (and in some cases which people aren’t worth connecting with at all).

For the longest time, I feared change. I saw it as a sign of loss, of abandonment and broken dreams. But, somewhere over the course of this nearly 3-year journey, I’ve started to see the flip side of the coin. And, seeing that, knowing there’s a remedy for every ailment and an end to every crisis, starts to create a sort of snowball effect.

Now, that’s not to say there isn’t discomfort and fear. In fact, the aforementioned anxiety attack was a very real example of fear of the unknown and the possibility of rejection. But, I’m able to push through. Make peace with not knowing. Or, even better, have a gut feeling about what will happen and letting yourself enjoy the good while it lasts.

Because, it may last. Or it may not. Either way, everything is ch-ch-changing.