The Many Ways We Meet Change: Resistance, Choice, Surrender & the Art of Becoming

Change.

Just the word can make some people excited, some people anxious, and some people want to crawl under a blanket and pretend they didn't hear it.

And then there are people like me.

My mind can completely freeze when faced with a major change.

For a few minutes.

Then something happens.

I start looking at it from every angle. What is happening? What is no longer working? What might this make possible? What can I learn from it? What choices do I have?

And eventually, I find my footing. (Actually I'm pretty quick at this step now!)

Not because I convince myself that everything is wonderful. I'm not particularly interested in pretending that darkness is light or that difficult things are secretly wonderful gifts.

Sometimes change sucks.

Sometimes we lose things we genuinely wanted to keep.

Sometimes a change is painful, inconvenient, frightening, or completely outside our control.

But I have learned to trust myself enough to know that I can face what is in front of me.

I can survive it.

I can adapt.

And, more often than not, I can eventually find a way to thrive within it.

Maybe that's the real difference between liking change and trusting yourself through change.

We Don't All Speak the Same Language of Change

Psychology has long recognized that people have different temperaments, personality traits, coping styles, and needs for security or novelty.

Some people naturally seek stability.

They like knowing what is coming. They prefer plans, routines, familiar surroundings, and a sense of predictability. An unexpected change can feel like someone pulled the floor out from underneath them.

Others are naturally more adventurous.

They see an unexpected opportunity and think, Well, let's see where this goes.

Some of us like BOTH the structure and stability, and the ability to be spontaneous and adventurous!

We're able to find ways of intertwining two seemingly opposing positions.

No response is inherently better.

They are simply different ways of processing uncertainty.

And personality isn't the only factor.

Our experiences shape us, too.

Someone who has lived through a great deal of instability may desperately crave consistency. (me!) Someone else may have learned through experience that change is survivable and therefore become remarkably comfortable with uncertainty. (me!) I say Create the stability and consistency so when the uncertainty comes along, you are more comfortable managing, living and thriving with it.

Even our attachment patterns, confidence, past experiences, and perceived sense of control can influence how we respond when life suddenly changes direction.

Which makes me wonder:

What if our reaction to change isn't actually about the change itself?

What if it's about what the change represents to us?

Loss of control.

Loss of security.

Loss of identity.

Loss of connection.

Or perhaps...

Possibility.

Freedom.

Growth.

Adventure.

A chance to finally become someone we have been trying to become for years.

The Three Kinds of Change

I think there are at least three very different ways change enters our lives.

1. The Change That Happens To Us

This is the tower moment.

The phone call.

The unexpected diagnosis.

The relationship ending.

The job disappearing.

The person leaving.

The house no longer being home.

The thing we never planned for suddenly becoming our reality.

We don't get a vote.

This kind of change can be especially difficult because it takes away our sense of control.

Our nervous system can react before our conscious mind has even caught up.

Freeze.

Fight.

Flight.

Fawn.

Sometimes we don't even know what we're feeling yet. We simply know that everything has suddenly changed.

And perhaps that's why giving ourselves permission to pause is so important.

We don't have to immediately find the lesson.

We don't have to immediately be positive.

We don't have to immediately know what we're going to do next.

Sometimes the first step is simply:

Okay. This happened.

And then, eventually:

What now?

2. The Change We Choose

This kind of change can look completely different.

We decide to move.

Leave a friendship/relationship.

Change careers.

Go back to school.

Start a business.

Travel somewhere we've never been.

Change our lifestyle.

Start over.

From the outside, voluntary change can look easy because we chose it.

But choosing change doesn't mean we aren't afraid of it.

We can simultaneously want something desperately and be terrified of what it will require from us.

I've discovered that sometimes the bravest changes aren't the ones we make because we're certain.

They're the ones we make while saying:

I'm not completely sure where this will lead, but I know I can't stay where I am.

That's a very different kind of courage.

3. The Change We Surrender To

And then there is the kind of change I sometimes think of as being led.

Maybe you call it intuition.

Maybe you call it timing.

Maybe you call it God, the Universe, synchronicity, or simply listening closely to your own inner knowing.

For me, there's something fascinating about those moments when I don't necessarily choose a direction so much as recognize that I'm being nudged toward one. Sometimes those nudges are big pushes. Some you hear for a while before you recognize them. Some come out of no where and hit you with an absolute certainty that now is the time.

I've found that when you ignore the gentle nudges—and even the stronger pushes—life has a way of feeling out of balance until you align with the path you're being called to follow. Whether you see that guidance as the Divine, the Universe, or your own inner wisdom, it often leads you toward your highest good. Our role isn't to force the outcome, but to trust the process, surrender what no longer serves us, and remain open to the abundance waiting on the other side.

You take the opportunity.

You follow the curiosity.

You make the move.

You say yes.

You don't have every answer.

You simply trust the next step enough to take it.

And sometimes you discover that life was rearranging itself long before you understood why.

Our Love Language Can Affect How We Experience Change

This is where things get especially interesting.

The popular concept of the five love languages—words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch—was developed as a framework for understanding how people prefer to experience expressions of love.

It isn't a scientifically established personality system, and people aren't necessarily limited to one love language.

But as a practical lens, it raises an interesting question:

When everything around us is changing, what kind of reassurance do we naturally seek?

Someone who responds strongly to words of affirmation may need to hear:

"You can do this. I'm here. I believe in you."

Someone who values quality time may need someone to simply sit beside them while they process what is happening.

Someone who responds to acts of service might feel deeply supported when another person says:

"Don't worry about that. I've got it."

Someone who values physical touch may need a hug, a hand to hold, or simply physical closeness while navigating uncertainty.

And someone who appreciates gifts may experience a thoughtful gesture as a tangible reminder:

"I'm thinking about you. You're not alone."

None of these responses is wrong.

They're different pathways to connection.

And understanding that can become incredibly valuable during periods of change.

Because when we're stressed, we don't always ask for what we need clearly.

Sometimes we expect the people who love us to know.

They don't always know.

Sometimes they are offering support in their language rather than ours.

And suddenly two people can love each other deeply while both feeling completely unsupported.

Personality + Love Language + Life Experience

Now add personality to the equation.

Someone who naturally needs structure might respond to change by making lists, researching every possibility, and creating a detailed plan. (Me!)

Someone more spontaneous might respond by saying:

"Let's just see what happens." (Me!)

Someone highly relational may immediately call their closest friends.

Someone introspective may need to disappear for a while and process privately. (Me!)

Someone who values independence may say:

"I'll figure it out." (Me!)

And someone who needs reassurance may need to talk everything through several times before feeling grounded.

Then add our history.

Our childhood.

Our relationships.

Our successes.

Our failures.

The times we trusted ourselves and were rewarded.

The times we trusted someone else and were hurt.

All of these experiences become part of the lens through which we meet change.

Which means there really isn't one correct way to respond.

There is only the opportunity to understand our own way.

And Then There's Me

My first response to major change?

Freeze.

My brain basically goes:

NOPE. TOO MUCH INFORMATION. PLEASE WAIT.

But apparently my brain only needs a few minutes to file its complaint.

Then the wheels start turning.

I begin separating the facts from the fear.

What is actually happening?

What am I assuming?

What is difficult about this?

What might be good about this?

What is within my control?

What isn't?

What choices do I have?

And eventually I get to the place where I can say:

Okay. Let's see what this becomes.

That's where my love of reframing comes in.

Not toxic positivity.

Not pretending everything happens for a reason.

Not slapping a smile on something painful and calling it a blessing.

I want to acknowledge both sides.

The light and the dark.

The grief and the possibility.

The fear and the excitement.

The ending and the beginning.

I don't need to decide that something is good before I'm allowed to admit that it's hard.

I can hold both.

I've had a lifetime of practice and experience.

Maybe Every New Chapter Is an Experiment

I've moved around enough in my life to start looking at change a little differently.

I like the idea of treating some life changes as an experiment.

Not:

This must work.

But:

Let's see what happens.

What if I try this?

What if I live here?

What if I take this opportunity?

What if I follow this feeling?

What if I discover that this isn't actually what I want?

That's okay, too.

An experiment isn't a failure because the result wasn't what you expected.

You learned something.

And that might be one of the most freeing ways to approach life.

We sometimes act as though every decision is permanent.

It isn't.

You can change your mind.

You can begin again.

You can try something and decide it isn't for you.

You can take a different road.

You can admit:

"I thought this was where I wanted to be, but now that I'm here, I realize it isn't making me happy."

That isn't failure.

That's information.

I framed my entire relocation from Arizona to Florida as an experiment. In my mind it made any potentially negative aspects something I could deal with if they arose. My one year experiment is now 3+ years in and I am completely happy and feel in alignment with what the universe has in store for my life at this time.

Alignment Isn't a Destination

I don't think we're meant to make one perfect decision and then remain permanently aligned with it.

We're constantly changing.

Our needs change.

Our relationships change.

Our interests change.

Our understanding of ourselves changes.

What once fit perfectly may eventually become too small.

And when that happens, perhaps the question isn't:

"Why did I make the wrong choice?"

Maybe it's:

"What is this experience showing me now?"

We can make adjustments.

We can pivot.

We can redirect.

We can begin again.

Life isn't a straight line.

It's more like a winding path with occasional construction zones, unexpected detours, breathtaking scenery, dead ends, shortcuts, potholes, and the occasional sign that says:

YOU PROBABLY WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO GO THAT WAY.

And sometimes the detour turns out to be the most interesting part of the journey.

Trusting Yourself Through Change

Maybe that's ultimately what I've learned.

I don't have to love change.

I don't even have to understand it immediately.

I don't have to know exactly where I'm going.

I just need to trust myself enough to know that I can meet whatever comes next.

I can pause.

I can feel the fear.

I can grieve what I'm leaving behind.

I can acknowledge what isn't working.

I can appreciate what was good.

I can remain curious about what might be next.

And I can change direction if I discover that the path I'm on no longer feels right.

Perhaps that's what freedom really is.

Not having control over everything that happens to us.

But knowing that we have choices about what we do with what happens.

Some changes will be chosen.

Some will be forced upon us.

Some will feel like we're being gently led somewhere we don't yet understand.

And perhaps the invitation isn't to figure out which kind of change we're experiencing.

Perhaps it's simply to meet it honestly.

With our personality.

With our history.

With our needs.

With our fears.

With our love language.

With our intuition.

And, most importantly, with enough trust in ourselves to say:

Whatever comes next, I'll figure it out.

Maybe I'll freeze for a few minutes first.

But I'll figure it out.

And who knows?

Maybe the next chapter will turn out to be an adventure.

Or an experiment.

Or a completely unexpected doorway into a life I hadn't even imagined yet.

Personally, I can't wait to see what happens next in my life! Let's get it on!

SOCIAL MEDIA

mylightlanguage@gmail.com

© 2025. All rights reserved.

Legal

Disclaimer

Terms and Conditions

Privacy Policy

Email