Have you ever had moments where you just do normal things passively and then some big realization of your life just hits you?
Out of nowhere, while brewing your coffee, some voice suddenly rises wanting to be heard.
Some words surface—longing to be written—and some lessons, from over the years, beg to be understood.
About five minutes ago, after cooking bacon and eggs for my little brother in this sh*tty apartment, and after hearing my father’s alarm go off for the fourth time this morning, I’ve realized something:
Not everyone can change.
In my 17 years of existence in this world, my fingers and toes combined would not be enough to count how many times I have heard the phrase, “Everyone can change.” And in my younger years (and by younger I mean 2, 3, 4, 5 years ago), I’ve always believed it.
I always thought that everyone had hope. That as long as there is life, there is f*cking hope. Well, not until this morning.
Rolling my eyes after seeing my father come out of the bedroom five minutes ago, this belief was finally vomited out by the same heart that embraced it and stupidly held onto it for a few good years.
Almost a year ago, after an excruciating 21-hour flight at the peak of the pandemic, I finally arrived to see my parents who were almost absent all my life. I say almost because I remember spending about two weeks with them—two weeks out of 17 years.
Aside from luggage and a big backpack, I also brought one more thing with me: hope.
For what, you might say? For a new life. For new opportunities. For a mother. For a father. For a family. These things I feel like we all deserve.
And almost a year later, I don’t believe that everyone can change. As unfortunate as it may be, the person from whom I had drawn inspiration from this new belief of mine was my father.
I have, thank God, finally taken a grasp on things that I’ve experienced that were not normal, and not every family goes through this stuff, so it’s not just a “let it go” thing.
The inability to change could be rooted in three reasons:
Not everyone can see.
This does not necessarily mean being blind. It’s not the physical loss of vision. It’s the lack of light somewhere beneath this skin and vessels we all have. A loss you, yourself, may not be aware of.
And a type of lost you, in your deepest thoughts, could not have even pondered. This is the type of blindness worse than (at least in my opinion), any other blindness one could have. Not being able to see through things, people, and happenings.
What a shame, actually, to be blessed with perfectly functional, but useless eyes.
Sometimes no matter how shiny and mirror ball bright we are, or no matter how much light we try to give or share with someone, it may not work.
Well, maybe I am wrong. Maybe it isn’t blindness and so the second reason comes in.
Not everyone can communicate.
I am sure (like I have never been sure my entire life) that some spend their lives not even trying to hide under the rug all their mistakes, which unfortunately causes repeating them over and over again.
Some things can be fixed with proper communication, they say. We often forgot that for communication to take place, both parties must be engaged and we must open the door of acceptance.
We learn valuable lessons from self-help books, podcasts, and meditation. Change can feel utterly useless until we come by these lessons and let them be the starting lineup for change. Changing and growing requires hard work.
Not everyone wants to change.
No more explanations are needed for this reason. Our behaviors dictate if the change is possible. For those who wish our loved ones would look at themselves, it’s hard.
And ladies and gentlemen, this is real life.
Some people, as harsh as it may sound, are just hope-deprived. Not everyone can change.
Not because of dysfunction and trauma, for bad days they’ve had, or for the environment they’ve encountered, but simply because they are unable to see and accept. Some cannot change because they lack the proper tools to do so.
So, what shall we do?
Have enough and leave if you must. And with leaving, abandon the slightest tint of hope you have for changing them. Let it go.
Change is a constant thing in our world.
Every phase of this process (called change) happens internally and then it eventually ripples outward.
For example, how we knock before we enter a room: what change needs is that kind of permission—not from anyone, but the person himself/herself. And with this being said, leave.
Easier said than done, I know. We are in the process of it. But then if you can´t leave yet, remember not to lose yourself in all the drama. That’s what matters the most.
In the event that there’s no door open to leave, make one.
And if you can’t make one, use your wings and set off to freedom. And if you still can’t, seek help.
We all deserve more.