Reclaiming the Delicious Possibility of Becoming
For years, in every training, book, and conversation, I heard the same phrase repeated like a well-worn truth:
“Humans fear change.”
It was presented as a fact — a psychological given. But the more I sat with women navigating life transitions — from endings to awakenings, from burnout to breakthrough — the more I realized: that just wasn’t true.
We don’t fear change.
We fear disorientation. We fear being pulled away from our own knowing.
We fear being changed, rather than choosing change.
But real, aligned, self-honouring change?
That’s something else entirely.
I didn’t always feel an aversion to change. As a child, I took stability as a given — it was simply the backdrop to life. But it wasn’t until much later that I realized: the stability I knew in my first marriage wasn’t truly safe. It was predictable, yes — but laced with tension, control, and subtle erasure.
That experience shaped something in me. I came to crave change and yet fear it — especially the kind I couldn’t control.
I longed for freedom, but only if I could steer it.
“I don’t know what’s around the corner… but I know it’s exciting.”
That phrase didn’t come from naïve optimism. It came from a decision — a soul-deep choice to trust the next chapter, even if I didn’t have all the pieces.
That phrase became my touchstone.
And in that season, I had a friend whose frequency danced with transformation. She needed change like breath — and instead of fearing that, I found myself drawn into her sense of adventure. Her ease with impermanence helped me shed my resistance. I didn’t need to control everything. I just needed to trust my frequency to lead.
And what I discovered was this:
Change can be delicious.
When it’s in alignment with your soul, change doesn’t feel like a cliff edge — it feels like a portal. A homecoming. An unfolding. A remembering.
“Humans fear change.”
Let’s be more accurate: humans fear unsafe change.
Change without grounding. Change without voice.
Change that is done to us, not with us.
But when we feel resourced, when we’re connected to our deeper truth, when we’re held in sacred witnessing — change becomes a natural expression of growth. We don’t need to be talked out of it. We rise into it.
Real change doesn’t drag you away from who you are.
It reveals who you were always becoming.
In my work — and in my own life — I’ve come to see that the most powerful changes don’t rush in all at once. They arrive like waves, softening the edges of what no longer fits and inviting us into deeper resonance with what does.
This isn’t about chasing reinvention.
It’s about allowing reintegration.
A deep returning. A sacred refinement.
And yes — it can be thrilling.
There’s a wild kind of joy that comes when you allow change to come from within rather than trying to meet an outer timeline.
Take a few deep breaths and let this question settle into your field:
What part of me is ready for something deliciously new — not because I’m broken, but because I’ve outgrown what no longer sings?
Let that answer rise gently. You don’t need to force it.
You’re not late. You’re not behind.
You’re simply remembering how good change can feel.