It’s been a long time coming. A few hours ago, after twenty-six years as a professional musician and worship leader, I walked off the stage for the last time. Today completed a two year transition from a career in music to full-time writing as a blogger and novelist. While I’ve already written about some of the things I’ve learned as I’ve managed this change (Jan 2019, Feb 2019, May 2019), the last few days have taught me new lessons.
Going in, I knew this weekend would be emotionally challenging for me. Even though this career change was something I wanted and initiated, I had anticipated a roller coaster of emotions. An organized planner by nature, I had been tempted to look ahead and try to structure or manage my emotions, as in, “I should feel happy when I’m singing” or “I should feel sad when talking to this person for the last time.”
Fortunately, through my times of meditation and prayer leading up to my final weekend, I saw the futility of that approach. I shifted my internal posture to one of openness, exemplified by a mental image of my hands held loosely in front of me, palms up. It was a way of reminding myself to just experience my feelings organically whenever and however they came, or as my accountability partner advised me, “Just feel the feels.”
When I got off the plane in Phoenix where I was playing my last weekend, I had a surprise voicemail – my friends and long-time band mates had arranged to all be on with me for my final time. I was genuinely touched and knew it would make the experience so much sweeter.
I played in four services, two on Saturday afternoon and two Sunday morning. The time on stage during the Saturday services was enjoyable, but after each one, the tears welled up. At the end of the night, I felt like I needed some time alone to process the emotions I felt building up inside of me, so I drove my rental car across the street to an empty parking lot. Sitting alone in the dark, I willed myself to cry, to let those emotions out. Nothing happened. I had some good moments of reflection but no tears. It wasn’t time. I drove back to where I was staying at a friend’s house and crashed on the bed, exhausted. I talked things through with my wife Lisa over FaceTime, then fell asleep at 9:15 pm.
The next morning, I arrived for the final two services feeling great. I was upbeat and joked with my friends. The first service went well, and when it was time for the second, I stepped out on stage for the last time feeling good, relaxed. For the first half of the set, I was just enjoying the moment. Then I turned and looked over at my bandmates, friends I’d served, played, and done life with for ten, thirteen, and fifteen years. Our keyboardist caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile. That was the moment it really sank in – after doing this hundreds of times over the years, we would never be on stage together again.
Then the emotions started to come. I managed to hold myself together enough to finish the set. I made it through the curtains backstage and promptly lost it. My incredible friend and accountability partner Ty plays guitar in the band, and I collapsed in his arms as we wept together. I did the same with other members of the band, dear friends all. The release that I knew I needed had finally arrived. I resisted the urge to stuff my emotions down and just let them come. It was a painful, magical, bittersweet, beautiful moment that I’ll always cherish.
A short time later, I drove away with a light heart and an overwhelming feeling of relief. I felt at peace. Joyful. Free. No regrets. With what I believe was God’s help, I was able to navigate an emotionally charged weekend of significant change. As I write this, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction and “rightness.” Whatever further processing may be ahead, I know I did everything I could to fully experience this change in the moment.
Change comes to all of us, welcome or no. As you face significant transitions in your life, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1. All change can generate both positive and challenging emotions. Even desired change usually involves a measure of grief, saying goodbye to one part of your life in order to make room for something better.
2. Everyone processes change differently. While it is important to navigate change in an authentic and meaningful way, don’t feel like your process has to look like anyone else’s.
3. “Feel the feels.” Rather than focus on how you think the change should make you feel, allow yourself to experience your emotions however and whenever they come. Don’t try to stuff, delay, deny, or avoid your feelings – embrace them. As you experience the change, take time to regularly ask yourself, “How am I feeling right now?” There’s no right or wrong way to feel as you process change, only healthy or unhealthy ways of expressing those feelings. Find positive, constructive outlets for releasing your emotions – crying, shouting into a pillow, journaling, meditating, praying, dancing, celebrating, laughing, talking with trusted friend, whatever works for you. Trust your instincts.
Change is inevitable. Change is difficult. Change is liberating. Change is exciting. Learn to process change well. If you do, you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
