if change is our only constant then we need to find peace in uncertainty
Change is hard.
In some ways it feels like change is never ending these days. Since the pandemic began in 2020, we've been living in what feels like an endless cycle of unprecedented times. First came COVID-19 itself, then supply chain disruptions, inflation, climate disasters, international conflicts, economic uncertainty, and political upheaval. Each event labeled as unprecedented, each demanding more adaptation. It felt like just as we were catching our breath from the last crisis, we were faced with something else.
I find myself longing for "precedented times"—those days when life felt more predictable and changes came at a more manageable pace. When it didn't feel like we were constantly bracing for another shock to the system. I miss the luxury of stability, being able to predict roughly what tomorrow might bring.
In a world where change is our only constant, our response to it — whether we fight it or embrace it — determines not just our ability to survive but to find genuine well-being and peace in an ever-shifting landscape.
This truth applies equally to personal upheavals and collective transitions. Sometimes, with unanticipated change, there is often language used around "rising to meet the moment." An unwritten expectation that to make it through this change we must grow, adapt. When it is a change we were not ready for, it can cause resentment. Having to find your way in a life that feels unrecognizable can create all kinds of emotions: anger, sadness, overwhelming feelings, numbness, disillusionment, guilt, or indifference.
This emotional turbulence is common in situations where change is accompanied by profound loss. Think about a death, the break-up of a relationship, or termination of employment. These events bring so many changes into your life, often all at once. All these unforeseen or perhaps even unwanted changes can be accompanied with a sense of grief that must be acknowledged and addressed in its own time.
When my best friend Emma died in 2007, my entire life changed overnight. I became unrecognizable to myself. While the world around me eventually marched on in the weeks that followed, I spent years trying to pick up the pieces. I struggled with trying to find myself in the shadow of the person I used to be, the person I felt people wanted me to be. She was no longer there. It took me more than a decade to find my way back to myself, largely due to my denial and avoidance. Despite popular belief, these are not stages of grief but rather common emotions that you feel throughout your grief journey.
Fighting against the change did not help me though. It impacted my relationships. It made everything more painful, more prolonged. I often wonder what it would have looked like to just surrender to the change, to my grief—to have not waited more than fifteen years to truly grieve Emma.
The thing about life is that you don't get any do-overs. I certainly learned many lessons. It helped me recognize what I would do differently. As I have faced other forced changes in my life, I have tried to give myself more grace. I have recognized that as I need to step into a new version of myself to meet the moment, I also need to offer myself compassion (which is hard!). I have recognized that with transformation comes grief. I honour grief and give myself the space to lean into it.
Not all change is built equally, however. Some changes are more joyous. They are made to be celebrated. These tend to be the changes that we are more prepared for—things like graduating university, getting married (or maybe even getting divorced), earning a promotion, quitting the job you always hated, retiring and sailing into the sunset. While these changes are more positive in nature, they are still changes. They require us to get comfortable with the discomfort of a new situation, something that is challenging for many people. I think sometimes people can be caught off guard when the joyous change comes with a tinge of sadness or grief.
When I left the public service in 2024, I thought it would be a celebration. I was surprised to find that I had many mixed emotions. After a year of trying to make my specific job work for me, and countless years of trying to fit into the public service, I was finally letting go. I felt relief. I was also excited and nervous about what was ahead. But there was also a lot of sadness. I was sad to be leaving a team and program that I had built from the ground up. I also felt disappointment. I was disappointed that the public service could not live up to its own values. Disappointed that it took me leaving to find peace.
I have had many people tell me how brave and courageous I am to have left the public service. But many days I have not felt brave. While I have not felt any regret, it has been hard. Harder than I would have imagined. In a world that feels it is constantly shifting, I often wonder if I really needed more change. Then I remember that change is our only constant. As Greek philosopher Heraclitus said: "Everything changes and nothing remains still." The earth never stops turning. We never know what will happen next. Will we plunge into a worldwide recession? Are the tariffs on or off? Who will be our Prime Minister tomorrow? Will this be the year that the Oilers win the Stanley Cup?
As Canadians head to the polls today, we face yet another moment of potential significant change. The uncertainty of election outcomes reminds us that our collective future, like our personal lives, is always in flux. Whether we're voting for stability or transformation, we're participating in one of democracy's most profound mechanisms for managed change.
So how do you stay well when there is so much uncertainty? For me, it is about learning to live with change rather than against it. I focus on the things that bring me joy: reading, connection with friends and family, writing, walks with my four-legged bestie. I work on balancing them with the things that I know are good for me like exercise, healthy eating, meditation. These anchors provide stability even as the world around me shifts.
It feels like we have been living in a constant change cycle since the pandemic in 2020. It is a lot. Having to constantly brace for what is next can feel exhausting, making it even more important to find the things that work for you to create some calm. Help yourself focus on the things that you can control, while acknowledging what you cannot.
Ultimately, though, I find peace in coming back to Heraclitus's words about the inevitability of change. Armed with my pockets of peace, I am staying informed, checking in, and telling my people that I love them extra these days. I am choosing to see change not as something to fear, but as the natural rhythm of life, sometimes painful, sometimes joyful, but always teaching us something new about ourselves and our resilience.
As we cast our votes today and await yet another potential shift in our national direction, I am reminded that in both personal and public life, we must learn to navigate change with grace. Whether through elections or personal transformations, we grow not by resisting what comes but by finding our way through it. The paradox is that by accepting change as our only constant, we can finally find the peace we seek in uncertainty. As the ancient Persian adage reminds us, "this, too, shall pass." And in that passing lies our opportunity for renewal and rediscovery of what truly matters.
