Change Makes Me Sick
I wish I could tell you that change gets easier as you get older. Maybe it does. I'm only 31, so I still feel like a newbie adult some days, figuring out what I want my life to look like and be. But every time real change shows up, I get the same physical reaction: my stomach drops, my chest tightens, I feel it in my body before I can even name what's happening. Change quite literally makes me sick. Then out of nowhere, something shows up that wasn't exactly on my radar, or maybe it was something I prayed for, but it looks nothing like I pictured.
Change and uncertainty stir up so many hard feelings. I don't want to call them negative, because they're not. They're just normal. They're what happens when change is happening.
Change can feel scary, especially when it's inevitable and you know God is the one leading it. But His leading doesn't always look like what we imagined. Our bodies and brains crave consistency and safety, and it's wild that we go looking for that everywhere except the one place it actually exists: God. He's the only one who is truly consistent, certain, and safe.
Growth requires change. If we're not continually learning, growing, and becoming more like Christ, we have to look in the mirror and ask why. When we believe in Jesus, we become a new creation, but that doesn't make change any less uncomfortable. It's uncomfortable whether we're changing locations, homes, jobs, or relationships. Even good change can be hard.
To me, there are two kinds of change. There's the change you choose, the growth you decide to walk toward, even when self-sabotage, laziness, lack of discipline, or your own feelings try to talk you out of it. And then there's the change that happens to you: loss, a layoff, a diagnosis, a spouse's job relocating your family, circumstances you never saw coming.
Right now, I'm walking through a little bit of both of those changes. I'm moving back to the Houston area after three and a half years in Austin.
I loved my life in Austin. I never had it on my radar, not even once, but God brought me there, and I know that with every ounce of me. I built a community. I lived at a pace I loved (for the most part). I did things alone I never thought I'd do, and I actually came to love that, the solitude, the chance to meet new people and see new places on my own terms.
I also know that a lot of that time alone in my apartment wasn't building the healthiest version of me, and that I need more community, not less.
The pull back to Houston has been building for a while. My mom's business is growing, and she needs more hands on deck, more of a hybrid presence than me popping in once or twice a month. Between her health and a few other things, I know God is calling me back. He's made that clear through a handful of mother-daughter sessions I've gotten to lead, which is honestly where I want to spend more of my time as Rooted Together grows.
If I'm honest, the thing I'm most afraid of about going back isn't the move itself. It's the memories. There's an old version of me who lived in Houston, and I'm not her anymore. But I still catch myself fearing I'll slide back into who I used to be, even though I haven't and I'm not going to. I have to keep fighting that fear with the truth of who I am now.
I had a real conviction about this move long before it made sense on paper. I had a roommate for most of last year, and when I asked her to move out in September 2025, something in me already sensed I only had a limited amount of time left living there alone. I didn't know it yet, but a year later to the date, God would call me back to Houston. I wrestled with Him for months. Things came up that could have let me stay in Austin. I kept asking, God, what are you actually asking of me? I was stubborn. I tried to stand my ground to do what I wanted to do. That didn't go especially well.
What I'm realizing now is that most of what I'm afraid of isn't really about the move. It's about looking in the mirror. It's an old wound, an old habit, a version of me that isn't who I am anymore. I'm worrying about things that haven't happened and may never happen.
“Lord, help align my mind and will to Yours.” I cried out many times.
We walk by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7). I don't need to know exactly where the next stepping stone is going to land, for my business, my relationships, or anything else. I just have to keep returning to faith and trusting God with what I can't see yet.
I want to be someone who stays convicted by the Holy Spirit, who never gets too comfortable to be moved by what He's showing me. Discomfort doesn't mean I'm making the wrong choice. Sometimes it just means the decision is hard, not wrong. A tender, responsive heart isn't a weakness.
Change doesn't stop being hard just because God is the one leading it. But I know I can keep moving forward anyway, walking by faith, and trusting the One who already knows where this path goes.
