I’ve been thinking about changing my mind.
Aha. I know what you’re thinking. 😄
But really, I have.
We have this funny idea sometimes that life is supposed to move in a straight line. We choose a direction, make a commitment, and off we go.
Except life doesn’t seem to have received that memo.
Life goes forward. It goes backward. Sometimes it goes around in circles and brings us right back to a place we were absolutely certain we had left behind.
Sometimes it stalls.
Sometimes we are peacefully sailing along, enjoying the scenery, and suddenly—whoosh!—everything changes.
Life can be smooth, chaotic, turbulent, peaceful, exhilarating, terrifying, and occasionally completely bewildering.
And somewhere along the way, we may discover that the direction we chose isn’t quite right anymore.
So what do we do then?
Do we keep going because we said we would?
Or is it okay to change our mind?
I think before we answer that question, there is another, much more important one to ask ourselves:
Why do I want to stop?
That question requires some honesty.
Am I afraid?
Am I uncomfortable because I am being stretched beyond what is familiar?
Am I avoiding something?
Have I reached that inevitable place where the excitement of beginning something new has worn off and now comes the part that requires courage, patience, persistence, or work?
Because if that’s what is happening, changing direction may not be what I need at all.
Maybe I need to stay right where I am and walk through the discomfort.
We’ve all experienced that.
Our comfort zones can be remarkably persuasive places. They know exactly what to say to convince us to come home.
This is too difficult.
Maybe you’re not ready.
You could always do it later.
Wouldn’t it be easier if you just…didn’t?
Oh yes. I know those voices.
But there is another reason we sometimes want to change direction.
Sometimes something deep inside us quietly begins saying:
This isn’t me.
And that is a very different thing.
When the Road Isn’t Yours Anymore
Coming Home to Yourself sometimes requires changing direction.
In fact, I’m beginning to think it may require it more often than we realize.
As we become more aware of ourselves—of what matters to us, what brings us alive, what feels meaningful, what feels true—we may discover that some of the choices we made no longer express who we are.
There may not be anything wrong with them.
They simply aren’t ours anymore.
I had a rather wonderful experience with this recently.
I had decided I wanted to write novels.
So I started writing them.
And I could have continued. There were things about writing them that I enjoyed, and my imagination certainly had no shortage of material!
But then something unexpected happened.
Children’s stories began calling me.
Not ordinary children’s stories, exactly.
Stories about an imaginary place called The Whispering World began appearing in my imagination—a mysterious world where children encounter ancient forests, unusual creatures, unexpected guides, and, along the way, discover something important about themselves.
And suddenly something in me came alive.
The more I listened, the clearer it became.
This.
This is what I want to write.
I could have told myself I had already decided to write novels.
I could have insisted that I finish what I started.
I could have created all sorts of perfectly reasonable arguments for staying on the road I had chosen.
My mind would have been delighted to help.
Our minds are very good at that.
They want to protect us. They like predictability. They like knowing what comes next. They tend to be suspicious of sudden changes in direction—particularly ones involving uncertainty and risk.
The heart is different.
The heart doesn’t necessarily know what will happen next.
But somehow, it knows us.
It recognizes what is true at our deepest core.
And when I listened to mine, I knew.
Writing these children’s books felt more like me.
So I changed my mind.
And do you know what?
It felt wonderful.
So…Is It Okay to Change Our Mind?
In my case?
You’re damn right it is!
More than okay.
It can be amazing.
Exciting.
Freeing.
Extraordinary.
Because changing our mind is never a failure.
It is always a lesson—and somewhere inside that lesson is a hidden gift, if we are willing to stop long enough and look honestly at what it truly means for us.
Maybe the gift is discovering that something isn’t right for us.
Maybe it is realizing what we really want.
Maybe it is learning something about ourselves we couldn’t possibly have known without first walking down that particular road.
And yes, sometimes the lesson is discovering that we want to quit because we’re scared.
Then let’s be honest about that too.
There is tremendous freedom in telling ourselves the truth.
I don’t really want to stop. I’m afraid.
Now we have something real to work with.
We can decide whether this matters enough to take the next step while being afraid.
We can ask whether the discomfort we’re feeling is actually the discomfort of growing.
We can stop pretending that the road is wrong when the truth is simply that the road scares us.
The truth will set you free.
Even when the truth is inconvenient.
Especially then.
What Is Your Heart Saying?
Perhaps there is something in your own life you’ve been thinking about changing.
Something big.
Or something very small.
A direction you chose.
A commitment you made.
An idea you once believed was right for you.
Maybe it still is.
Maybe what you need is courage to keep going.
But maybe, just maybe, something inside you has been quietly whispering:
Not this way.
If so, perhaps today is a good day to listen.
Not to the hundred reasons your mind can produce for why you shouldn’t change.
Not to what other people might think.
Not even to what you thought you wanted six months or six years ago.
Just for a moment, listen to your heart.
What feels true now?
And if changing your mind would allow you to be and express more of who you authentically are, will you give yourself permission to do that?
I know my answer.
And if you have ever changed your mind about something important—and discovered something unexpected about yourself because you did—I would truly love to hear your story.
Come sit with me on The Bench and tell me about it.
I have a feeling we could have a very interesting conversation.