The Dissonance of Becoming

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It comes in waves—the dissonance of becoming.

That nagging tension in the in-between, where you’re no longer who you were, but not yet who you’ll be. It feels like being squeezed, wrung out.  

My mind grasps for anything to ease the discomfort. It wants to skip ahead, to see how the story ends, to know the ache is leading me somewhere—that it’ll all be worth it.  

But transformation doesn’t work that way.  

There’s no skipping ahead. No shortcut through the pain.  

“Over thinking, over analyzing, separates my body from the mind.”  

I need out of my head. I throw a leg over the bike, earbuds in, Tool’s “Lateralus” reverberating through me, and hit the road.  

I find a straight stretch—wide open. My grip on the bars tightens, mirroring the squeeze I feel inside. I twist the throttle and let the exhaust rumble through me like an earthquake, crumbling another outdated belief:

I’m not good enough as I am.  

It’s not comfortable. It’s never comfortable.  

But it’s necessary.  

This is the part where everything shifts—not because something’s broken, but because something deeper is stirring, rising, asking to be known.  

My job isn’t to fix it.  

My job is to stay present.  

To let what no longer fits fall away, even if it hurts.  

To trust that what’s real will remain—and what's aligned will emerge.  

“Ride the spiral to the end,   

We may just go where no one's been.  

Spiral out.   

Keep going.”