How to Deal With Change Like a F*cking Adult

Jul 14

Hi, friends!

Change and I used to have beef. I clung to things way past their expiration date: jobs, zip codes, entire identities…The idea of starting over made me feel physically sick. And to be honest, sometimes it still does. But recently, I noticed something wild. Ever since I removed certain environments, old beliefs, and habits from my life... I stopped having these mysterious symptoms I’d had for years. Like… what? My body was begging me to let go before I was even ready.

If you’re scared of change, I get it. Whether it’s your career, your city, your body, your relationships, or your personality doing a full 180, losing control is terrifying. Especially when the world has already taken so much from you. Especially when you've built your life on the belief that stability = safety. But staying stuck hurts worse. And the truth is, change isn’t the enemy. Stagnation is. Let me show you how I made peace with change, and how you can too.

TL;DR:

“What if I make the wrong decision?” Remember, there’s no such thing as a “perfect” choice. Trust yourself to decide with the information you have right now, it’s all you can do.

“But I’ll miss what I’m leaving behind.” That’s completely natural! It’s okay to grieve and acknowledge what you’re letting go of, but embracing that loss can lead to incredible things!

“I don’t even know who I am anymore.” That confusion is all part of the climb. Rebuilding yourself is a powerful and transformative experience. You'll discover new layers of your identity along the way.

“It’s too late.” Those who say this are often projecting their own fears. You have the power to redefine your path at any age, so don’t let their negativity hold you back.

“I feel paralyzed.” Start small! Do one brave thing at a time. Taking those tiny steps can create momentum and ultimately clarity. That's what I've done with this blog, and I am overwhelmed some days by how much I've grown and changed in just 1.5 years.

5 Ways to Get Over Your Fear of Change

1. Grieve the old version of you. Then keep going.

Change requires loss, and that’s true even when we’re heading toward something positive. I remember when I moved out, I felt this deep wave of grief wash over me. I remember my Dad hugging me tight as I left my bedroom for the last time, and he did his half-laugh he'd do when he was uncomfortable, patted my back, and said, "Hey, don't cry! You know, you can always come back!" But neither of us knew yet, that wasn't true. And now he's gone, and I've spent the last 5 years on a crash course of change I didn't sign up for. I remember walking to my car with a pit in my stomach that I can still feel as I type this. I think some part of me knew something in that moment, and I wish so deeply that I just went back inside and cried more while he hugged me, even for just 5 more minutes. But I couldn't just sit in that moment forever, even if I wanted to, even if I tried. So, I just sat in the car sobbing as if I had already just lost someone so dear to me. In many ways, I had. I was saying goodbye to a version of myself, the first version of myself in the only home I ever knew, who had walked those familiar sidewalks, laughed and cried in that cozy kitchen, and navigated every inch of those woods, each tree and stone familiar like an old friend.

Like many of us, life threw me into the deep end. I didn't get to choose my change, as most people often don't. My Dad was the only person, the only... anything in the world that made me feel safe. When that security blanket was ripped away, suddenly all I could see was how cold and scary the world was. I way, way, WAY overcorrected what should have been something more like agency, or awareness, and went full-fledged paranoid-anxious neuotic mess. For years. Then one day I panic-called both an old friend AND my mom, simply because I couldn't get hold of Jon while he was just at Target. I was very unreasonably terrified that something terrible had happened to him. After calming down and Jon arriving home literally perfectly fine and without incident, I realized...

"Girl... you are acting like a crazy person. This is crazy person behavior! Get it together, you dizzy bitch!"

I realized what my Dad would say if he saw me and the way I was living. He'd have been PISSED. He spent way too much of his precious and short life making sure I would be okay, that my life would be happy. I know how mad he was that he didn't get to kick cancer's ass, but he would have been way more angry with me for ruining my own life. I realized, yes, my Dad died. Yes, it sucked. No, it wasn't fair.

But then I heard his voice say what I'd heard him tell me a million times before... "Life's not fair!"

And he was right. Life isn't fair, and it wasn't suddenly going to become fair anytime soon. So, I did what everyone has to do at least once in their life. I got my shit together. Sort of. Well... I started to, but that's all I needed!

Leaving behind old friendships, jobs, and even those clothes that no longer fit, physically or emotionally, felt like a funeral for a part of my own life that was so intertwined with who I was, but no longer am. I mourned them all, and at times, it felt strangely heavy, even when I knew deep down that I had outgrown those connections. It's so important to recognize that you are allowed to grieve the things you consciously choose to leave behind. It doesn't mean you didn't love them, you just love them from a distance now.

Let that sink in for a moment. Just because a decision is undoubtedly the right choice doesn’t mean the process will be easy or pain-free. That sadness you might feel? It’s not a sign that you made the wrong choice, it’s a testament to your humanity and your capacity to feel deeply.

Write a letter to that version of yourself you're letting go of. Pour your heart out on the page, tell her thank you for everything she did to keep you alive during those times. Acknowledge the good, the growth, and the lessons learned. But also remind her that it’s time for her to step aside, she doesn’t need to run the show anymore, she can relax and watch from the sidelines. This isn’t just about making space for the new, it’s also an act of honoring your past and all the selves you’ve been along the way.

2. Rewire your fear with facts.

Fear of change is just fear of the unknown. And the unknown loves to exaggerate. Your brain doesn’t whisper helpful things like, “Hey bestie, what if this new city is where you meet your people?”

Nope. It screams, “YOU’RE GOING TO HATE EVERYTHING AND DIE ALONE IN A TARGET PARKING LOT.” The way out? Data. Grounding. Receipts. Proof. Timeline. Screenshots. (Yes, we stan RHOSLC in this household)

Look at times you’ve handled change before and survived. Better yet, thrived.

Moving cities? Scary, but you figured it out.
Changing relationships? Brutal, but you'll get your peace back.
Pivoting careers? Confusing, but now you’re closer to what you actually want!

Your brain needs evidence that you’re not just out here free-falling. You’re adapting. That’s your superpower.

Try this: Make a “Proof I Can Handle Sh*t” list. Keep it in your Notes app. Add to it every time you do something that used to scare the hell out of you.

3. Stop waiting to feel “ready.”

Ready is a scam. No one feels “ready” before a big change. You only feel ready after you do it. I wasn’t ready to move, to end things, to start my blog, to shift my identity. I was scared and heartbroken and deeply unsure. I just did it anyway. You can’t heal in a stagnant life. It's like that saying that all the super successful people you can think of have one thing in common: they left their hometown. (Which really boils down to bravery if we're being honest!) You need movement. You can't grow in an environment that kept you small. Just like a flower, you need sunlight on your beautiful face, fresh air, healthy soil, and the space to grow! Even if it’s messy while you're growing! Let me say this as your friend, not a guru: You don’t need more clarity. You need more courage.

That “what if” you’re obsessing over might not go away until you move. And if it turns out to be the wrong path? You’re allowed to change again. No, we didn't love our first apartment, but without it, we wouldn't have grown into the versions of ourselves that bought our house. No, I couldn't move back home to my Dad if I wanted to now that he's gone, but I can realize that if he were alive, I wouldn't have wanted to be living at home at 27, just like I didn't back then at 18 lol... so now with clear eyes, I can appreciate what I do have, take charge of my life and make my new house feel like home with Jon. That’s not failure, it’s refinement.

Try this: Give yourself permission to “try” instead of “commit.” Like, “I’m trying out this new chapter,” not “I must succeed or I suck.” That tiny shift removes so much pressure.

4. Recognize when your body is speaking up.

Your body often knows it’s time for change before your mind does.

I used to have more mystery health stuff. I blamed food. I blamed hormones. I blamed my doctors for not knowing what the heck was wrong with me. I blamed everything but the truth: I was surrounded by stress, resentment, and people I was pouring more into than myself, often to my detriment, and getting no support from them in return. The moment I started saying no, letting go, and changing, I felt better. Not instantly, but steadily, until it was noticeable enough to point out, even just today for me! Your nervous system isn’t built for “pretend everything is fine.” It will rebel. Loudly.

Try this: Track your physical symptoms around certain people, habits, or environments. Are your migraines always after certain conversations? Does your energy spike or crash when you think about something? That’s data, babe. Use it.

5. Choose your hard.

Here’s the mic-drop: Change is hard. But so is staying stuck.

Fear tells you it’s safer to wait. To cling. To stay where you know the terrain, even if it’s making you miserable. But staying where you don’t belong will slowly kill your spark. And you deserve so much more than that. Change is painful, yes. But it’s productive pain. It leads somewhere. Staying stuck? That’s just pain with no payoff.

Try this: Every time you feel frozen in fear, ask:

“Is this fear protecting me, or is it keeping me small?” Then do the next right thing. Even if it's small.

Fear of change is primal. It’s protective. It’s personal. It's natural. Especially if you’ve lived through grief, trauma, illness, identity shifts, or starting over from the ground up. But you are not broken for being afraid. You’re just a human who’s finally ready to stop letting fear drive the car. So take the shot. Even if your hands are shaking. Even if you miss, you’ll be proud that you moved. That you tried. Like I said,