What's the cost of staying put?

Change brings discomfort. Even if you meticulously plan the next step, it’s impossible to know what it will be like – and who you will be – once you’ve taken it. There’s risk in the new. Even change we long for comes with some fear of entering the unknown.

But what’s the cost of staying where you are?

I’ve always loved and sought out change, but it still doesn’t come as a pure positive. Along with the excitement of the new comes melancholy over what I leave behind. There’s some trepidation about the risk; some level of wanting to remain in the comfort of the known and familiar. There’s an internal barrier to cross, with a bit of avoidance of the work that’s needed to move forward.

Time lapses between the initial impetus to do something differently and the point at which I act. It can seem like a waste of time, but I accept it as part of the process. Ultimately, I choose to move forward – often more quickly these days than I used to.

Research shows that, typically, we can easily see how we were different ten years ago, but have a hard time imagining that we will be different ten years from now. We imagine the same person, just ten years older. But everything we experience reshapes our brains and we develop. The person looking back at your 2024 self from the vantage point of 2034 or 2029 or even 2025 will not be the same as you are now.

The choices you make from now to then will shape you. Which direction do you want to take?

Is there change you know you need that you’re avoiding?

Making changes mean taking risks. At minimum there’ll be discomfort. But what’s the cost of not doing it?

(And yes, the photo is of a 'me' that's both different and similar, 17 years ago - though I think I still have that dress!!)