Steering Through Life's Unexpected Turns: Welcoming the Now in Surprising Situations

Does everything feel overwhelming lately? Get When Life Sucks: 21 Days of Laughs and Light at no cost when you subscribe to the Tiny Buddha list.

“To live without arriving is to learn how to stay.” ~attributed to the Buddha

For a significant part of my life, I believed that reaching a destination was the goal. Like many others, I thought that adulthood would ultimately provide a clear role, a sense of security, and a feeling of belonging that I could identify with and say, This is it. This is who I am. I had faith that if I worked diligently, pursued what was important, and adhered to my principles, that moment would eventually arrive.

Now, much later, I’m confronted with the possibility that it may never come.

I realize I’m not the only one feeling this way, even if it’s not a frequent topic of discussion. Many of us harbor an unexpressed expectation that effort will ultimately manifest into something tangible—something stable, comprehensible, and acknowledged. When that fails to materialize, we often turn inward, believing we missed a cue or misinterpreted the guidelines.

Staying, as I perceive it now, involves being present without that arrival. It means continuing to live in a life that doesn’t unfold as we had anticipated. This essay discusses what it feels like to remain in that space—and why acknowledging that experience is important.

There is a fear I rarely confess, even to myself. It’s not precisely the fear of failing, aging, or financial instability, although all of those are in close proximity. It’s the fear of being a disappointment. Not in a public or dramatic way. Quietly. The kind that doesn’t create a scene but lingers in the backdrop of family life, unarticulated yet felt.

I sometimes fret that my children perceive me as someone who suggested—perhaps too lightly—that everything would turn out fine. That I would find my niche. That I would arrive. I envisioned myself as a father who could present something concrete and say, Here. This is where I ended up.

Instead, I feel like a person who never truly found a place here.

A large portion of my adult life transpired elsewhere—geographically, culturally, creatively. I worked, taught, created, contributed. I had purpose. But it often existed outside the visible frameworks that grant legitimacy. When I attempted to fully integrate into the culture I returned to, I confronted a painful truth: I didn’t know how to embrace it, and it didn’t quite know how to embrace me.

That realization unfolded gradually. Through job applications that led nowhere. Through courteous rejections. Through the quiet discomfort of being asked, “So what do you do?” and recognizing that the answer no longer fit neatly into a single sentence.

What troubles me most is not that events didn’t unfold as I anticipated. It’s the fear that this absence of arrival may reflect on my children—that they might feel the need to explain me, or quietly distance themselves, or question whether their father believed in something that wasn’t genuine.

That belief—that sincerity, care, and meaningful work would ultimately yield security and acknowledgment—wasn’t something I created. I inherited it. And I conveyed it, trusting it would hold steadfast.

Now I’m mature enough to question whether it ever truly did.

Aging tends to sharpen these inquiries. When younger, disappointment feels temporary. There’s still time to change direction, to reinvent oneself, to arrive later. As the years progress, the narrative appears less open-ended. You start to see not only what you did but also what you didn’t become.

And still—I’m here.

Still contemplating. Still striving to live authentically. Still awakening each day within a life that didn’t provide the clarity I expected, but did offer depth, responsibility, and care. Many individuals reach this juncture quietly, without language for it, pondering whether they are alone in their realization.

I don’t perceive myself as a tragic figure. I see myself as someone who didn’t conform to the narrative he believed he should inhabit. Someone who misinterpreted integrity for value. Someone who thought that meaningful work would naturally lead to acceptance.

Occasionally, I awaken at night with a humbling realization: What if I misinterpreted how the world functions? Not in a dramatic manner—but in the gradual understanding that the values I adhered to don’t always translate into security or recognition.

That anxiety doesn’t arise from dishonesty. It emerges from dissonance—from the chasm between what we’re told is important and what is genuinely rewarded. And from pondering how those we cherish will interpret that gap.

There’s a unique solitude in perceiving oneself as an outsider within one’s own culture. Not exile—just a persistent feeling that the prevalent language never quite settled in your mouth. The language of ambition, certainty, self-promotion. I’ve spent a significant portion of my life listening more than expressing, striving to live in harmony rather than ascend.

This way of being has imparted meaning. It has also left me vulnerable.

I want to be clear about the purpose of this writing.

I’m not proposing a solution or a moral. I’m vocalizing an experience many bear quietly: living with care and intention while still not arriving where they expected. I’m writing because naming it can alleviate the isolation surrounding it. Staying is easier when it feels communal.

I could transform this into a narrative of quiet victory. I could smooth the rough edges and suggest that everything eventually sorted itself out. But that would overlook the truth I’m attempting to honor. This is a circular narrative because many lives are circular. Nothing here is resolved. That’s not failure—it’s simply honesty.

I don’t genuinely know how my children perceive me. This fear may predominantly exist within me. Yet it relates to something broader than my own family. It reflects our deep-seated tendency to equate worth with visibility, success with legitimacy, and care with measurable results.

I offered love. I offered attention. I offered presence. I offered values that don’t conform neatly into résumés or retirement plans. Whether that will feel adequate, I cannot influence.

What I recognize now is that our culture provides very limited language for individuals who age without accolades. There is no ceremony for quiet contributions. Without markers, we begin to question ourselves.

Buddhist teachings remind us that attachment—to identity, outcome, or narrative—is a source of suffering. I grasp this intellectually. Emotionally, I still desire my life to make sense in a way others can acknowledge. Letting go of that desire isn’t a singular moment of realization. It’s a daily commitment.

Some days I manage it. Other days, the old fear resurfaces—that I didn’t become what I suggested I would, that the conclusion I anticipated may never arrive.

What I’m learning to hold alongside that fear is this:

A life doesn’t need to resolve to be truthful. A parent doesn’t need to arrive to be present. Meaning doesn’t demand guarantees.

I did not arrive. I may never arrive. But I stayed.

I remained with the individuals I love. I remained with values that mattered to me. I remained with work that felt authentic, even when it didn’t compensate me. I remained with myself when it would have been simpler to slip into bitterness or performance.

To live without arriving isn’t tranquil. It can be humbling. But it is genuine.

And if there’s a purpose to this essay, it’s simply this: staying matters—even when the conclusion is uncertain, even when the narrative doesn’t resolve, even when no one is offering recognition for it.

Sometimes staying isn’t the route to meaning. Sometimes it is the meaning.

About Tony Collins

Edward “Tony” Collins, EdD, MFA, is a filmmaker, writer, educator, and advocate for disabilities living with progressive vision loss from macular degeneration. His work delves into presence, caregiving, resilience, and the quiet strength of small moments. He is currently finalizing books on creative scholarship and collaborative documentary filmmaking and shares personal essays about meaning, hope, and disability on Substack.
Connect: substack.com/@iefilm | iefilm.com

Notice a typo or inaccuracy? Please reach out so we can correct it!

**Navigating Life’s Surprises: Embracing the Present in Unexpected Circumstances**

Life is inherently unpredictable, filled with twists and turns that can catch us off guard. From sudden job changes to unexpected health issues, these surprises can challenge our sense of stability and control. However, learning to embrace the present amidst uncertainty can lead to personal growth and resilience. This article explores strategies for navigating life’s surprises and finding peace in the moment.

### Understanding the Nature of Surprises

Surprises can be categorized into positive and negative experiences. Positive surprises, such as unexpected promotions or joyful reunions, can uplift our spirits and provide motivation. Conversely, negative surprises, like sudden loss or financial setbacks, can induce stress and anxiety. Recognizing that both types of surprises are part of the human experience is the first step in embracing the present.

### The Importance of Mindfulness

Mindfulness is the practice of being fully present in the moment, without judgment. It encourages us to observe our thoughts and feelings without becoming overwhelmed by them. By cultivating mindfulness, we can better manage our reactions to unexpected circumstances. Techniques such as meditation, deep breathing, and grounding exercises can help anchor us in the present, allowing us to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively.

### Reframing Perspectives

When faced with unexpected challenges, reframing our perspectives can be a powerful tool. Instead of viewing surprises solely as obstacles, we can choose to see them as opportunities for growth and learning. This shift in mindset can reduce feelings of helplessness and empower us to take proactive steps in navigating our circumstances. For instance, a job loss might lead to the discovery of a more fulfilling career path, while a health scare can prompt a reevaluation of lifestyle choices.

### Building Resilience

Resilience is the ability to bounce back from adversity. It is a skill that can be developed over time through various practices. Building a strong support network of friends and family can provide emotional stability during turbulent times. Additionally, engaging in self-care activities, such as exercise, hobbies, and adequate rest, can enhance our capacity to cope with stress. By fostering resilience, we become better equipped to handle life’s surprises with grace and confidence.

### Setting Realistic Expectations

Embracing the present also involves setting realistic expectations for ourselves and our circumstances. Life is not always linear, and setbacks are a natural part of the journey. By acknowledging that challenges will arise, we can prepare ourselves mentally and emotionally. This preparation allows us to approach surprises with a sense of curiosity rather than fear, opening the door to new possibilities.

### Cultivating Gratitude

Practicing gratitude can significantly shift our focus from what is lacking to what is present in our lives. Keeping a gratitude journal or regularly reflecting on the positive aspects of our lives can help us maintain a balanced perspective, even in the face of unexpected challenges. Gratitude fosters a sense of contentment and encourages us to appreciate the small joys that often go unnoticed.

### Conclusion

Navigating life’s surprises requires a blend of mindfulness, resilience, and a positive mindset. By embracing the present and recognizing the potential for growth in unexpected circumstances, we can transform challenges into opportunities. Life’s unpredictability can be daunting, but with the right tools and attitudes, we can learn to dance with uncertainty and find joy in the journey.