A couple of years ago, I took an online improv class from Second City. People were surprised. Improv? Steff? It seemed like something a bold, extroverted person would do, and I’m neither bold nor extroverted. At least not historically.

But here’s the thing, I’d always wanted to try it.

I loved watching Whose Line Is It Anyway? and would make believe I could hold my own with a perfectly timed quip. I’d been to live improv performances in Chicago. And I even interviewed a Second City executive about how the rules of comedy can teach business leaders communication skills.

Clearly, I was circling this idea. Then life reminded me that it is short. Stop circling. Start doing. So, I signed up and immediately regretted my decision.

What if I’m not clever after all, I worried. What if I freeze? What if I’m the dud in the class? (You know, the helpful, supportive inner dialogue your brain likes spit out.)

Well, taking the class ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve ever made because I learned something that helped me navigate the toughest year of my life.

It’s called “surrendering.” No, it’s not the dramatic, raise-the-white-flag, give-up kind of surrender. This is different.

It’s accepting what you cannot change and choosing what you will do next. It’s making lemonade limoncello out of lemons. And, for me, it was letting go of what I thought my life would be and getting curious about what it could be. The “woulda coulda” two-step.

One class exercise made this crystal clear. We had to build a scene with a partner one word at a time. Sounds simple enough … until it wasn’t. It went something like this:

Me: I

Them: have

Me: never

Them: been

Me: to

Them: the

Me: beach

Them: without

Me: my

[Here’s where I think a perfectly reasonable partner will say sunscreen or towel or umbrella, because duh]

Them: furry

[Beg your pardon? Um…]

Me: underpants.

Instructor: And scene!

What just happened??!! I’ll tell you what happened. Furry underpants happened. And as ridiculous as it was, it was also better. It was unexpected. It was a story I hadn’t planned but will absolutely remember.

Life works the same way. You think you know where you’re going and then—BAM!—a pair of furry underpants smack you directly between the eyes. A job disappears. A relationship ends. Life changes in ways you never saw coming and suddenly you’re standing there thinking, “This is not the beach vacation I imagined.”

But here’s the important part. Don’t call “And scene!” and walk off the stage. Instead, respond to what is in front of you. Improvise but don’t give up. Continue on, just without the script you thought you’d be following.

After my world imploded, I adopted a simple mantra: Trust the Journey.

Trust that your best days are not behind you. Trust that something meaningful is still unfolding. Trust that a new chapter will happen one word, one moment, one person at a time—when the time is right.

Was this easy for me? Absolutely not! I’m someone who needs a destination, a plan, and an ETA. Trust that something amazing is out there ahead of me? Like a surprise party waiting in the wings to fill my heart with joy? Okaaay … but I’ll be over there in the corner hyperventilating in the meantime.

But I trusted anyway. And, slowly over time, life did not disappoint.

Just last week, I caught myself in a moment that would have been unimaginable three years ago. I was reading an email from an author I admire who’s become a friend. I was texting another friend in publishing about meeting for coffee. I was ordering pink gripper socks for a Pilates class with my sister. And I was deciding what to wear to meet a very special person for drinks that night.

Most of these people weren’t even on my radar a few years ago. And now I can’t picture my life without them. (Or the socks. Truly essential in high winds.)

My life feels full again. Not in the way it once did, but in a way that feels deeply, unmistakenly mine. In that moment, I thought, I’m so lucky. Then I said it softly out loud. And then I actually shouted it, like a slightly unhinged person who had just cracked a code.

Because here’s the truth. I didn’t choose this plot twist. But I am choosing how I live it. And that’s the heart of improv’s most famous rule: Yes, and. Yes, this happened. And now we drink limoncello.

So, trust the journey. Or, if you prefer, trust Journey and Don’t Stop Believin’.

If you feel stuck or uncertain, take the next step anyway. Trust that something is waiting for you that is bigger than you could have imagined. And trust that when the time is right, life will jump out from behind a sofa and surprise the hell out of you.