I was at a support group recently, and someone asked me what part of my journey had been the toughest. I didn’t even have to think about it.
The answer came straight out of my mouth: CHANGE, not just the big life changes, but the subtle, internal ones, those sneaky little fuckers that sneak up on you, unsettle you, and demand that you meet yourself differently.
I’ve talked before about the moment I realised the only thing holding me back from making changes in my life was fear.
That realisation came after reading a book called Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, which a support worker at a women’s hostel gifted me after I left my ex. Looking back, I truly believe that book sparked my journey of self‑enquiry. And once that spark lit, the revelations kept coming. Those fears were fucking loud. They shaped my choices, my relationships, my sense of possibility.
But here is the thing about self‑enquiry: once you see something in yourself, you cannot unsee it. You can dwell on it, you can ponder it, you can delay acting on it, but if you try to ignore it, all you do is reinforce the lie that your life can stay the same.
But the hardest part of change hasn’t been the external shifts. It’s been reconciling the changes within myself. The constant shedding and rebuilding of identity. The uncomfortable stretch of stepping out of my comfort zone into spaces that felt alien, exposing, or “not for someone like me”.
The way my beliefs kept evolving felt like being on a roller coaster; sometimes it was exciting, and at other times it was scary as I learned more about who I was and who I was no longer willing to be.
Sometimes I look back at my younger self and barely recognise her. A woman who was determined, yes, but also crippled with self‑doubt. A woman who depended on others to make her feel whole, because she didn’t yet know how to belong to herself.
Change used to feel like hard work, something to avoid, something that would cost me too much. But deep down, I always knew [and know] that avoiding change would only leave me feeling more stuck, more powerless, more disconnected from the life I actually wanted.
I used to think change was an inconvenience. Now I see it as an invitation.
In moments of self‑doubt, I remind myself that if I hadn’t leaned into change, way back then, and during the times I was reluctant, I would never have gone to university. I would never have published a book. I would never have stepped into rooms that once terrified me, or spoken truths that once silenced me.
Change isn’t easy, but staying stagnant is far worse.
And don’t get me wrong, I still resist it. There are days when I cling to the familiar, even when it’s uncomfortable. There are days when I crave certainty, predictability, a neat little script to follow. Days when I feel the old fears creeping back in. But here’s what I know now: every meaningful part of my life has come from choosing movement over feeling stuck.
Every version of me that I’m proud of has been shaped by change, not the glamorous kind, but the messy, awkward, deeply humankind.
Change asks something of all of us. But it also gives something back: clarity, courage, possibility, and a self we can finally recognise.
So here’s my call to action, or a reminder for you
Stop waiting to feel ready. Take the step anyway. Let the fear come with you if it must, but don’t let it lead. Trust the pull, trust the discomfort, trust the becoming and more importantly, TRUST yourself
Because you deserve a life that expands with you, not one that keeps you small.
Love Fordy
#unapologeticwriter
#haveawordwithyourself
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