The Shock Of The New

When we experience a car crash, we go through shock and disorientation. We may feel lost and confused. But can the force of epic change be so powerful that it feels like a car crash? I’d say yes—it absolutely can!

Big change can manifest in many ways: the loss of a loved one through death, a divorce, the need to relocate for work, or even the realization that your health will make normal activities incredibly challenging. For me, I’ve been gifted—yes, gifted—the opportunity for transformation through multiple life changes all at once.

In May 2023, my partner and best friend of 20 years passed away. I spent nearly 18 months in deep grief, coming to terms with that loss. Then, I faced the challenge of managing a three-bedroom home on my own—the upkeep, the bills, and everything in between. The weight of the memories became too much. The local area, once familiar, felt saturated with reminders of my partner and of my close friend Paul, who had passed away in late 2022. As if that wasn’t enough, many friends had distanced themselves from me, leaving me feeling increasingly isolated.

To top it off, I fell victim to a fake Elon Musk scam online that lasted over 10 days. That sent me spiraling into despair and questioning my life all over again. Shortly after, I made the difficult decision to let go of my rental home and move in with my mother in the northeast of England. My mother was undergoing chemotherapy for the second time and had been diagnosed with extensive lung fibrosis, so she needed support.

Let Go

Letting go of 99% of my worldly belongings in just one month was no small feat.

October 2024 was a whirlwind of physically demanding tasks—moving furniture, carrying heavy objects down steep stairs, and saying goodbye to everything familiar. Thankfully, I had the support of four amazing friends who helped with dismantling and removing furniture. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them. They were my human angels.

Letting go of my home, memories, the area, the remaining few friends, and most of my belongings felt cathartic at times. But upon arriving in the northeast, reality hit me hard. I moved into a tiny single bedroom in my mother’s home—a place where, to be honest, I hadn’t had the best relationship growing up. I found myself grieving all over again: my home, my independence, my personal space, my belongings (many of which I realized I still needed but couldn’t fit in the car). I mourned the quiet I so desperately needed for my emotionally frazzled self.

Here I was, with nothing familiar except my childhood home. No nearby friends, no work, just the responsibility of caring for my mother. Sixteen days in, and I’m still coming to terms with the shock of the new. People say it takes six months to adjust to relocating, but when you’ve let go of almost everything and downsized to the point where your home feels stifling, I think it takes much longer.

Nearly every day, I’ve felt the urge to flee, to escape. Without my own home, I have nowhere to run to—no sanctuary, no respite from the internal turbulence. I’m grappling with the absence of friends to confide in, in-person.

The “shock of the new” is a concept rooted in the I-Ching, the Chinese divination system. Before I moved, I dreamt of lightning bolts. At the time, I wondered what they meant. Now, I know. I’ve stepped squarely into a new level of uncertainty, riddled with feelings of insecurity. With my mother’s health, the future feels unpredictable. All I can do is believe this is happening for me, not to me. The universe must have its reasons for this ongoing turbulence in my life.

Major shocks can either stimulate or debilitate us—it all depends on perspective. The key lies in being open to fear, instead of running from it, transforming anxiety into clarity. There is, believe it or not, a positive side to shock.

When overtaken by crisis, the wise look within and search their hearts for strength, facing the world with courage. Courage means daring to take the unexpected path, bouncing back after failure, or having faith in the meaning of life when confronted with great loss—even death.
— Divination.com

Along with grief and relocation, my body has gone through its own shocks. In May 2024, shortly after finishing my book Slippers in the Attic – A Guidebook for Grief (release date January 2025 on Amazon), my left knee gave way in excruciating pain. I couldn’t walk and had to use crutches for two weeks. Since then, my knee hasn’t improved much. The stress of moving, combined with the physical demands of hauling belongings and the emotional toll of upheaval, seemed to make it worse. My body, too, has felt the shock.

Success comes when you achieve tranquillity in disturbance.
— Café au Soul

In joining a local Buddhist centre, I am learning to release my attachment to expectations and to purify my actions by looking within rather than placing blame outside of myself. Life often presents us with opportunities—sometimes multiple, sometimes relentless—to let go of our external attachments. Perhaps this is one of the hardest yet most transformative experiences we can face. How do you handle the shock of the new?

In my next post, I’ll explore what it means to let go of ambition—especially when everything you’ve tried hasn’t worked—and how to embrace a new way of living.

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