Change Is Actually Not That Bad.

I'll be more than fucking okay.

I was catching up on Vishal's blogs during my flight back to Bombay and in one of his blogs he mentioned how "It would be different but it would be okay" and I really really needed to hear that. Sometimes the universe has this strange way of putting exactly what you need right in front of you when you need it most, doesn't it? There I was, 30,000 feet above the ground, feeling like everything familiar was shifting beneath my feet.

Change has always been this complicated thing for me. I want it, I fear it, I resist it, I embrace it, often all within the same breath. And lately, it feels like change isn't just knocking on my door anymore , it's moved in, rearranged the furniture, and is making itself very comfortable in every corner of my life. The job situation that's been keeping me up at night, the relationships that are evolving in ways I didn't expect, the city that somehow feels both more familiar and more foreign each day I return to it.

But "it would be different but it would be okay there's something so beautifully simple about that statement. It doesn't promise that things will be better, or easier, or that I'll love every moment of what's coming. It just acknowledges the truth that yes, things will change, and somehow, in ways I can't yet understand, that's going to be alright. Not perfect, not exactly what I planned, but okay.

I've been thinking about how we're conditioned to fear the "different" part of that equation. We cling to the familiar like it's a life raft, even when the familiar has stopped serving us, even when we're drowning in our own comfort zones. I catch myself doing this all the time staying in conversations that drain me, sticking to routines that no longer bring joy, holding onto versions of myself that I've outgrown simply because they're known quantities.

The flight attendant came by offering snacks and I realized I'd been staring out the window for what felt like hours, watching the landscape change below. Cities became towns became fields became mountains, and none of it looked like where I'd started, but all of it was part of the same journey.

The terrain changes, but the journey continues, and somehow we adapt, we find new rhythms, we discover parts of ourselves we didn't know existed.

I remember when I first moved to Bombay, how overwhelming it all felt. The sounds, the pace, the sheer intensity of everything. I was convinced I'd made a terrible mistake, that I'd never find my place in this sprawling, breathing organism of a city. But slowly, day by day, I started to understand its rhythms. I found my favorite chai stall, learned which train compartments were less crowded, discovered shortcuts through the maze of streets. It was different from everything I'd known before, but it became okay. More than okay, actually, it became home.

And now, as I'm facing another wave of changes, I'm trying to remember that feeling. The uncertainty, yes, but also the excitement of discovering something new about myself, about what I'm capable of handling.

There's this quote I read somewhere about how we're all much more resilient than we give ourselves credit for, and I think that's part of what makes the "okay" part possible. We adapt, we learn, we find ways to make meaning out of the chaos.

The person sitting next to me on the flight was reading a book about mindfulness, and I caught a glimpse of a highlighted passage about accepting impermanence. It made me think about how much energy I spend trying to freeze-frame the good moments, to make them last forever, and how much anxiety I create for myself by trying to control outcomes that are ultimately beyond my control. Maybe the art of living isn't about avoiding change but about getting better at dancing with it.

I started thinking about all the times in my life when I was convinced that a particular change would ruin everything. The end of relationships that felt like the end of the world but eventually led me to better understand what I actually needed. The job I lost that felt like professional suicide but pushed me toward work that actually aligned with my values. The friendships that naturally faded, making space for deeper connections I couldn't have imagined before.

None of it was easy in the moment. I'm not trying to romanticize the difficulty of transition or pretend that change doesn't sometimes hurt like hell. But looking back, I can see how each shift, each uncomfortable period of not knowing what came next, was preparing me for something I couldn't have planned for myself. It's like my life has been having conversations with itself that I wasn't even aware of, setting up plot twists that only make sense in retrospect.

The pilot announced we were beginning our descent into Bombay, and I felt that familiar mix of excitement and apprehension that comes with returning home after time away. The city looked different from the air than it had when I left, or maybe I was different, and that was changing how I saw everything.

Either way, I knew that whatever I was coming back to wouldn't be exactly the same as what I'd left behind. Time had passed, people had changed, situations had evolved. It would be different.

But as the plane touched down and I felt that slightly jarring moment of contact with solid ground, I thought about Vishal's blog again. Different, but okay. Not just okay, actually, full of possibility.

Because every change, every shift, every moment of uncertainty is also an opportunity to discover something new about what we're capable of, what we value, what we want to create in the world.

I collected my bags and stepped out into the humid Bombay air, feeling the familiar assault of sounds and smells and energy that always hits me when I emerge from the airport. The taxi driver asked me about my trip, and I found myself saying, "It was good, different, but good." He nodded like he understood exactly what I meant, and I realized that maybe we all do, on some level. We're all navigating the space between what was and what will be, trying to find our footing in the ongoing story of our lives.

So here I am, back in Bombay, grateful for Vishal's blog and for the reminder that I don't have to have everything figured out to keep moving forward. Change is coming, change is always coming, and I'm learning to greet it not as an enemy to be defeated but as a teacher who might have something valuable to show me about who I'm becoming. It would be different, but it would be okay.