Once I read a book that changed my life. I found this inconvenient because I did not want my life changed. But it changed. And it was, as I just pointed out, inconvenient.
The book was rude and it told me that I was stupid. It told me that the world I had been living in up until that point had been a child’s world. It told me that reality is more complicated than I had been giving it credit for.
The book was insulting and offensive. It was almost as if the book wanted me to throw it on the ground and stamp on it in indignation. It spat at my beliefs and disrespected my heroes. The book was hell.
There is nothing liberating and joyful about changing your mind. More often than not, it is the exact opposite. The things you believe in — the things you stand by against the whole world — these things define you. To have them questioned hurts. To have them taken away from you can kill you.
Such change, if it happens, when it happens, will always draw blood. And if you are brave enough, you will seal the wounds, stand up, and rebuild the universe.