[15] Do We Change?

An Op-Ed discussing change — are people (including myself) capable of it, what induces it, and why do I want it? "My intuition is telling me there'll be better days."

Your character is meant to go through arcs. At least that’s a narrative that’s been pushed on me since I was young, persisted on by movies starring flawed individuals mending their shortcomings and contributing to the lives of others. They teach me that I am to build upon my character until I reach the conclusive embodiment of who I am MEANT to be. 

And so, I’ve long tried my best to MOLD myself. The molding has been a process of social repositioning, philosophical fluctuation, and physical metamorphosis. Uncovering how (and why) I feel certain ways towards certain experiences, and what those emotions reveal about my desires and my tendencies and my personality. Understanding my approach to interaction through the repercussions of being sassy, the fear to socialize around the unfamiliar communities of tall jocks and blonde girls, or the jokes that I can/cannot let slide. Working out and running off calories and sucking in my stomach and wearing mouth tape while sleeping — my self-imposed obsession over how I look. 

I’ve mentioned in [7] that the “hunger for growth transforms into a disgust for imperfection.” But this article isn’t exactly touching on my desire for growth. Instead, it’s tackling the very notion that I am capable of growth, of progress, of change. I perceive that I HAVE deviated from some previous quo, so is that not concrete proof that people can change, since I perceive I have changed? 

But then, I wonder, why does there exist such a widespread belief that change is impossible. Perhaps it’s rooted in the belief that people can’t enact change to either a large enough degree or a long enough duration for the change to be considered significant. Or maybe it’s the assertion that people are incapable of changing their core beliefs on their own accord — that they require some tragic catalyst. Still, even with those caveats, to say that people don’t change? That’s too cynical, isn’t it? 

So, let’s add some nuance and compromise. I opine change CAN be self-imposed, but it’s reasonable to believe change is enacted best when it’s NOT an artificial transformation of one’s character. What matters to the change we enact is the environment that we engage with — an environment that is everchanging. The social landscape of who you CAN and WANT to hang out with (I miss you Misha, For the Beli, et al.). The imminent need to grow out of a school setting and assimilate into the workplace (something that looms over me as I think of my undergraduate major and reminisce on my lab internship). The goals you abandon and the passions you adopt and the dreams you dream. 

I know that my environment (and the experiences I gain from them) mold me unknowingly because I’m constantly discovering connections between my present tendencies (both good traits and bad habits) with my past memories. Consider how friends have shaped me: my disappointment in past bonds push me to treat others the way I want to be treated, their compassion and reciprocated effort enable me to love and trust, my use of deprecative humor to fit in during middle school foils my ability to address disappointment, and ideological discussion enhances my worldview. 

But then again, I’m not as impressionable as I was when I was younger. I’m more skeptical now, which prevents me from making drastic change. And yet I put (a potentially unreasonable amount of) faith in the ability of people to change. Out of hope that understanding myself WILL change the trajectory of my life. Out of hope that change will enable relationships with people that I’m yet not compatible with. Out of hope that, if I allow myself to change enough, I’ll no longer need to feel pain, feel lonely, feel failure.

There no longer exists that “hatred of the present” I emphasized in [7] in my introspective approach to life, but there still exists some desire to build on the present I’ve attained. And perhaps it’s in my greedy optimism that I want more change. A hope that change will guide me on my chase for some perfect future that will never come. Change is difficult, but when is that change worth working towards? I want to change my status quo as I strive for something greater, but I don’t want to change an authentic friendship by over-stating my gronuds after a conflict. I want to grow out of your insecurities and tantrums, but I don’t want to change who I am merely to please someone else. I want to meet new friends, thus transforming my social circle, but I don’t want to change the friends who I see as my brothers. Change is ultimately scary because it’s out of our control, whether it’s in its sporadicity or its unpredictability or its chaos. I realize that it’s not exactly that I want change to wash through my whole life — rather, I selfishly want to achieve some “perfect” life for myself by trying to take control of the components of my life that I don’t have control over. 

But I ground myself and rationalize with change. There NO LONGER exists a hatred of the now that was hinted at in past articles grappling with my obsession with the past, anxieties about the future, or dissatisfaction with the present. I don’t know what exactly allowed for this present — a present I’m so proud of, so fulfileld with, so delighted by, so cared for in — but I’m SO GRATEFUL that I have it, and I can’t help but feel I LUCKED out. Change WILL come, and I’m going to try my best to ensure it changes in my favor, but I’m more than content with what I have.