I have never been good at goodbyes.
When I meet people, one of the first things I tell them is how bad I am at goodbyes. I thrive on order and meaningful relationships. I thrive on having a plan and sticking to it. I thrive on things always staying the way they used to be. For me, the way things used to be is often how they should be. I cling on to what I know, even when it no longer serves me.
I'm a person who loves to know what to expect.
I'm the kind of person who hates uncertainty, too. I used to be the type of person who wouldn't apply to things if I wasn't sure I'd win. I used to be the type of person who wouldn't give it a shot if there was a chance that the shot I took wasn't perfect. I soon realized that my fear of not being good enough stopped me from living life. I wanted to stop that.
And so, I started doing things that scare me.
I have this goal that I will do something that scares me every single day. Sometimes, it something ridiculous like trying a new food or saying yes to a new idea when I'm not so sure. More rarely, the thing that scares me is a little bigger. It's a little higher stakes. I suppose that there is no such thing as a low-stake risk, anyway.
Applying to be the Vice President of FGCU Odyssey was my thing of the day last August. I didn't expect anything to come from it. I thought I would go to the interview and sit there and receive a "Thanks for applying" email in two to four business days. Still, I decided to try it--and I got the position. The only reason I got the position is because I wasn't afraid to fail. Giving way to the possibility of failure gave way to my victory.
Odyssey reminds me of what happens when I don't attach myself to the outcome.
I remember that my very first article on Odyssey got 300 views. Then came the bigger views. A thousand. A couple thousand. A hundred thousand. Hundreds of thousands. My most viewed article to date has almost hit 900,000. I knew it wasn't ever about the views, but the views were comforting. They were a not-so-silent affirmation that I was doing the right thing.
Then the views went silent. Odyssey headquarters ceased to exist. My articles were no longer curated by professional editors. Much of what I loved about Odyssey--the thrill of sharing my story to thousands--was gone.
Still, I didn't want to lose the spark I had found.
I didn't want to lose an opportunity to share my story. And so, the thing that scared me became an even bigger thing that scared me. Once again, it was time to make a choice. It was time to go--to start on another platform and give into all the stress and fear and opportunity that newness brings. It was time to start--and start we did.
I read a quote that the journey is really all about going back to the place you started with a new perspective.
As I end my time here on Odyssey and start my time on The Narrative, it's certainly a full-circle moment. The anxiety I feel now mirrors the anxiety I felt back then. The same is true of the joy. I've found that the hardest things are often some of the most worthwhile things, and this transition is no different.
I can't allow what used to be stop me from what's to come.
Although change terrifies me, there's a little voice in my head that reminds me it's going to be okay. Everything will work out. Maybe it won't be how I imagined, but it will be how it's supposed to be. From cover to cover, we will be wrapped in grace. We'll be wrapped in hope for what's to come.
As we near the last page, we're just getting started. After all, that's the magic of a story.