“What could go wrong, Rach?!”

With deadpan humor and her famous wit, my friend Erin asked me this (with a tone implying that in fact much could go wrong). 

It was in reference to the plate of Mexican food put in front of us, which looked more like dog food. 

Given I was on my second margarita, she made me cry with laughter (as this photo shows). 

We surrendered to this spot in the Denver airport to console ourselves after our connecting flight kept getting delayed; being picky wasn’t an option.

This statement popped into my head once again as I stuffed the last container into my crammed car, closed my door and began driving cross country to LA with a plan of…no plan, just go there for a while to learn. 

What could go wrong, Rach?

This time the question wasn’t about something as minor as dodgy Mexican food, but about a major life pivot.

I was really asking myself: what’s the worst that could happen?

It’s the kind of question that could go in different directions. Down one path, fear and apprehension, down another path optimism and adventure. 

In this moment, my mind instantly time-traveled back to three of my most painful life experiences.

Could it be worse than watching my mom disappear into dementia?

Worse than curling myself into a ball, bawling my eyes out in heartache?

Worse than watching my friend almost die in a head-on collision, her life never the same again?

I wasn’t being negative, actually.
My approach was more ‘If-it-doesn’t-kill-you-it-makes-you-stronger.’

We live long enough and we all have our list.
The gut wrenching moments… the disappointments…the betrayals… the loss…

And although it’s easier to forget, we also have our blissful moments…
the pleasant surprises…the good fortune… the sweet gratitude... 

Just like children strengthen their immune system by getting sick in their youth, we all strengthen our resolve by surviving, and growing from, what ‘went wrong’ in our past.

Driving into the (literal) fog that afternoon I was a woman in my 40s not my 20s. And the benefit of lived experience is you know you’ve survived some serious BS and gotten through, ideally a little more tender and stronger.

So what’s the worst that could happen with my un-plan of moving to CA for a while?* 

That’s the mystery. 

I’m going to choose to focus on what’s the best that could happen. 

Just as my stomach survived the Mexican food, I survived the road trip and settling into Venice Beach.
I’m delighted to still work with my clients over the comfort & flexibility of phone and video, explore new professional opportunities within mind-body medicine & relationship therapy, and get back to writing that damn book. 

As for more specifics, as David Bowie said,
“I don’t know where I’m going, but I promise it won’t be boring.”

*I don’t know how long. I’ll keep you posted.