I discovered recently that I suck at transitions. Like completely and irreversibly awful at them. I hear myself say that out loud and I realize that it’s such a strange way to be alive. To enter into a new part of life wobbly and upside down like a toddler learning to stand on my newly found feet, digging my newly found toes into the newly found dirt. And I’m blindsided.
We think we’re living in these routines, but so much of life is new. So often. We are 20 something’s walking around like wobbly little toddlers. And I think that now more than ever we are learning to use our legs. How goll darn whimsical.
So, I wish I could tell you why people leave or why trees change right when you get used to their colors or why doors slam closed even when there’s a door stopper or why cold words come from a warm heart. But friends, the truth is, transitions sucker punch us right in the gut and we find ourselves on the ground. But the most important exercise in the whole entire world is picking ourselves up off the floor. Over and over again.