Embracing the Messiness of Change

Riding the waves of what was, what is, and what might be.

Change is messy. It’s emotional. It’s confusing. It’s that in-between place where the old no longer fits and the new hasn’t quite formed. It’s the moment you realise you’re not in control of the tide, you’re just learning to ride the waves.

We often talk about change as if it’s a straight line: identify the problem, make a plan, move forward. But in reality, it’s more usual to be a tangled mess. It’s more like a series of loops, pauses, regressions, and bursts of energy. Some days you’re hopeful and energised, full of curiosity and new ideas. Other days, you’re sad, tired, or sulking in quiet resistance. And that’s okay. It’s all part of the process.

‘You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.’ – Jon Kabat-Zinn

The messy middle

The messy middle is a challenging moment because it’s where certainty disappears. You can’t go back, but you can’t yet see what’s next. It’s a foggy stretch, uncomfortable, emotional, unpredictable. But it’s also where growth and opportunity starts to get seeded.

Being in the middle means you’re feeling things. You’re asking questions. You’re worrying, sometimes productively (“How can I prepare for what’s coming?”) and sometimes unproductively (“What if I can’t handle it?”). But worry in itself isn’t the enemy. Worry is energy. It’s your mind and heart trying to make sense of what’s shifting. The trick is to listen to your worries without letting them steer the ship.

The full range of emotion

Change brings the full emotional weather system. One day you’re hopeful and brave, the next you’re clinging to what feels familiar. You might even feel two opposing things at once, excitement and fear, sadness and relief, loss and anticipation. That’s not confusion; that’s being human.

It’s okay to sulk. It’s okay to question. It’s okay to cry or to laugh at how ridiculous it all feels. Emotional honesty is a form of strength. Pretending to be “fine” through change might look like resilience, but it often just pushes the feelings underground, where they linger. Naming what you feel, allowing it to move through you, is how you actually start to master change, own change.

Getting lost (and finding meaning)

In the middle of change, you might feel completely lost, unsure who you are, what’s next, or what’s solid ground. That’s transition. When you lose your familiar reference points, you begin to see what really anchors you, what matters to you, your values, your purpose, your relationships.

Getting lost helps you find yourself again, differently. It opens space for new perspectives, new possibilities, new ways of being. You may not know what’s ahead, but you begin to trust that you’ll find your way, step by uncertain step.

This is temporary. And this is now.

There is a paradox of change: it’s both temporary and very real. The discomfort won’t last forever but that doesn’t mean you should rush through it. Because this moment, however uncomfortable, is also part of your story. It’s shaping you.

Instead of fighting to “get through” it, what if you softened into it? What if you treated the mess not as a sign of chaos, but as a sign of movement? Change doesn’t require you to be perfectly composed; it asks you to be present, to show up as you are, even when it’s uncertain, even when it’s hard.

Riding the waves

In the book, Another Door Opens, I include Jack Johnston’s story, from surfer to musician.

Extract - “As Jack Johnson says, ‘The waves can teach you a lot about life.’ Jack had to rethink his whole career and life after a serious accident at Pipeline, one of the world’s most dangerous surf spots, abruptly ended his professional surfing ambitions. ‘The accident was a wake-up call,’ Jack says. ‘I thought, what else am I going to do? So I followed things that I loved, music and film, as that helped me through recovery. My mum bought me a guitar and that started me on my next path.”

So, when the waves of change hit, don’t brace too tightly. Let yourself ride them. Feel the pull, the swell, the dip. Trust that every wave, every emotion, every question, every wobble is carrying you somewhere new.

Change is not a test of control. It’s an invitation to stay curious, to stay open, and to keep showing up, messy, human, and real.

Because in the end, that’s where transformation lives, not in the tidy aftermath, but in the beautiful, unpredictable middle of it all.