When Your Shoes Are Too Tight

 I don’t think we are necessarily scared of changing. I think we are most afraid of not liking the people that we eventually become. It is all the unfamiliar demands life may make on us. If you grow five inches taller, you aren’t in the least bit disappointed that you will be able to reach the Cajun seasoning on the top shelf of the spice cabinet as much you are inconvenienced by having to let out your trousers, or go the store in order to purchase new garments. There will be something that indefinitely and irrevocably changes about our appearance, and maybe we had grown very fond of our pants that rode too high, or our shoes that fit too tightly. What will people think of these new boots? Maybe they liked you best in penny loafers?

And life seldom forewarns us when it decides to explode or implode or shake up our little snow-globes. In the tussle, we lose valuable items. A house fire doesn’t ask permission first before engulfing your most prized possessions. We must grab what we can before the roof collapses in on us.  

Life sometimes strikes a match. People sometimes light your life on fire— maybe for better or worse.

I’m not saying that houses on fire aren’t scary, considering the heat, the intoxicating smoke of circumstances that blurs our vision, the firefighters who are still trying to water you down. But more than anything they are most scary in their aftermath, because we can go back and visit those places that we used to live in when we were the people that we used to be—charred and maybe still glowing, fumbling through artifacts of “You-Used-To-Be” and “When-I-Was”. We sit back and sigh, miserably commiserating, "I really liked that part of myself-- that blanket of insecurity, that bookshelf of low expectations and you know, that fear was my favorite rug." 

But you cant live there anymore than you can wear those shoes that are two sizes too small. Those shoes will give you blisters and that house is simply inhospitable.

It can be like this. You grow and now your head hits the ceiling on your way out the door. So build a bigger house. Life is big and doesn’t really stop growing because you refuse to stretch with it.  All I am saying is this: stop being scared of who you’re becoming if who you’re becoming is greater than what you were.

So what? You prefer your coffee with cream and Future You might drink it black. The day that you stop worrying about maintaining this silly expectation, you’ll try your coffee black and you’ll like it. This is a silly analogy, but I am trying to make it relatable to deeper, more complicated expectations that we construct for ourselves. 

We grapple to hold on to every grain of sand in our hands.

You cannot hold on to every grain of sand.