“Trust the wait. Embrace the uncertainty. Enjoy the beauty of becoming. When nothing is certain, anything is possible” ― Mandy Hale

It is all happening now. I found and rented a interior, climate controlled storage space. The large but not too large space presents a daunting challenge to distill almost all my possessions from my, what feels like, many lifetimes lived in the past 48 years.

How does one begin the process of sorting through belongings that have been in one’s possession for decades? Do I keep my wedding dishes, which I love, that I received for my now-defunct marriage? What about the towels that were given to me when I was initially moving and escaping my marriage? How do I balance the “what if I don’t have money to replace these old, worn things?” with “It is time to clear the slate and step into newness.”

I think it is time to let go. Letting go of all but that which is most important makes room for new things in many ways. I have no idea what the future holds. I only know my next step. It is time to let go, not only of possessions, but of expectations for how things are “supposed” to be. I know I have shelter for storms as they come. I have a roof over my head in the form of my camper. I have roots in both my diving community and fellow law school students. My parents and brother are close.

Most of my life has been spent in survival mode for various reasons, including surviving military sexual assault as well as domestic violence. I have spent years fighting my life. I think now it is time to really befriend it. Hiccup, in How To Train Your Dragon, befriended the thing that he spent his life in fear of, in the process changing everything he believed was true. He did it even though he was afraid. He took a chance because maybe, just maybe, it would be alright.

Like Hiccup, I have been learning to befriend my life enough to become less afraid and more open to uncertainty. I am now able to pet my life on its head.

Tears met me when I walked into the bedroom of a younger, already bedridden hospice patient, as I was visiting at his home. I was working the weekend and, like most medical staffing, it is just nursing staff with very little support from social work or spiritual care. I asked if he would be willing to tell me what was happening for him. He told me, “I think that when I die, I will just no longer exist. There is just nothing.” He was fearful of his passing and questioning his life as he lived it. I am no different than the rest of you when it comes to knowing what happens after we die, but I have spent most of my career where the veil between life and death is thin. I don’t think it is just nothingness. My response to him was another question, leaving open different possibilities. “What if it is not? What if it is the most amazing thing you have ever experienced?” I told him he didn’t have to answer me, but just to think about it and keep the possibility open. He ended up having a peaceful death just a few days later.

I hope that I can be brave like Hiccup to continue to befriend the things that most scare me. I hope I have the courage of my patient to be open to the possibility that things may just end up being better than I ever imagined.

For now, from a place of healing and growth, a place free from fear of the future, I get to choose. I get to choose what from my life fills that storage space. What parts are important for me to keep and, perhaps more importantly, what do I need to let go?

When nothing is certain, anything is possible. What if, as I move through this transition, continuing my personal growth and midlife career change into a young lawyer, it is better than I ever imagined?