Amy,
I'm really glad you asked that question, because it tells me exactly where you are right now—not avoiding, not shutting down, but trying to stay connected while everything feels unfamiliar. That matters.
There isn't a single "best" way to adapt, and there isn't a right pace. Adaptation isn't something you master or get right 100% of the time; it's something that unfolds through ordinary moments of staying present, noticing what's actually happening, and choosing connection instead of retreat. Much of it happens quietly, often before you even realize it's happening.
One important part of this is letting change arrive without preemptively enlarging it in your mind. When fear is present, it's easy for each new shift to take on more meaning than it actually carries—like a small moment standing in for an entire future. But lived change doesn't arrive all at once. It shows up in pieces, in ordinary moments that are usually smaller than what we imagined. You've already noticed that for yourself. That matters.
Another shift you're already beginning to make is moving from bracing to curiosity. When we brace, we tense against what we fear is coming next. When we stay curious—about Cynthia's experience, about your own reactions, about what a given moment actually feels like—we stay in relationship. Curiosity keeps the door open. Bracing slowly closes it. The fact that you're asking questions and reflecting instead of withdrawing tells me you're choosing presence, even when fear is loud.
You're also learning something important about feelings. Discomfort doesn't have to mean anything final. Feeling unsettled in a moment doesn't mean you're failing, or that your marriage is in danger, or that you "can't do this." It simply means something is new. Feelings move. They offer information, not verdicts. Allowing them to pass through without turning them into conclusions is part of how adaptation takes root.
What stands out to me most, though, is how consistently you keep showing up. You read, you take things in, you reflect, and you respond thoughtfully. That willingness to stay engaged—to keep talking, not just about logistics but about how things feel—is one of the strongest indicators that a connection will deepen rather than erode. You and Cynthia are not on opposite sides of this. You're navigating unfamiliar terrain together, learning as you go.
You mentioned feeling "guilty" about trying to avoid change, and I want to gently set that down for you. Wanting stability isn't a flaw; it's human. Most people prefer what is known and predictable. What matters isn't whether you wish things were easier or steadier—it's that you're making room for what is real, even when it stretches you. That isn't avoidance. That's engagement.
You've also been intentionally noticing what remains steady: your shared history, the trust between you, and the ways you continue to choose each other. Those things aren't small. They are anchors. Letting yourself see what is still good, still familiar, and still loving doesn't deny change—it balances it. It reminds your heart that you are not starting from nothing.
You said you don't want the connection between you and Cynthia to erode. That desire itself is a compass. When things feel uncertain, let that guide you—not fear of the future, and not pressure to feel resolved, but your commitment to staying connected to the person you love.
You don't have to rush this. You don't have to feel okay with everything all at once. Some days will feel steadier than others. That isn't failure; it's how real change is lived. And when fear is loud, it's okay to fall back on something simple and steady: *what will be, will be.* Not because effort doesn't matter, and not because choice disappears, but because some parts of life can only be known by living them. Holding that truth doesn't mean giving up agency—it means allowing yourself to meet the future honestly, as it arrives.
You are already adapting, Amy—carefully, honestly, and with courage. The work you're doing now isn't about arriving at certainty. It's about continuing to choose presence, again and again, as the path reveals itself.
With care and deep respect,
— Susan 💜
