I don’t like change. To be more precise, I don’t like change that I cannot predict, prepare for, and control, which pretty much encompasses most changes that occur in life. When things are going smoothly, I don’t give change a second thought. Sometimes, I even convince myself that when the next change presents itself, that I will welcome it and play nicely with it. Until it happens.
Many times, despite my intention to be Zen-like in my approach to impending change, I often view it as impending doom. I resist it and try to make it meet on my own terms or not at all. Not every change, of course, is to be feared or dreaded. Regardless of how change is perceived, though, change is, well, change. I have been enjoying a period of relative calm, free of significant change, but change is in the offing. It always is. I feel it, even though there is nothing specific that is changing yet.
It’s kind of like a pimple beneath the surface of your skin. You can feel it, but you can’t see it yet. So, you wait for it to appear, and then, you decide how to deal with it. Leave it alone. Treat it. Pop it. Conceal it. All of the above. I am in that pre-pimple purgatory, only on a non-dermatological level. So, I wait, and I anticipate its next move and mine.
As I look at possible changes headed my way, there is the familiar apprehension about the unknown, but there is something else. Something unfamiliar. Something welcome. There is a sense that of hope and even a sense of excitement, accompanied by a belief that everything will be okay. That I will be okay, no matter what happens. This is new territory for me.
I am basing this newfound belief on the fact that my track record for handling times of change is pretty good. In fact, it’s perfect. Infertility. Divorce. Relationships ending. Depression and anxiety. Breast cancer. Job changes. I have been thrown for a loop by all of these and more. Even when I felt like I would die, or feared that I literally would, I found a way to survive. And thrive.
I survived, ungracefully so, flailing and failing. I wasted a great deal of time and energy fighting both the realities of each situation and the unfounded fears and concerns that I conjured up in my mind about these changes. It was absolutely exhausting. But at some point, that physical, mental, and spiritual exhaustion and resistance gave way to acceptance of both the change at hand and the fact that my way of dealing with the change was not working well. Something had to change, and that something was me.
With all of these changes, I had to accept that I was only in control of my own thoughts, feelings, and actions as they related to the changes, and those three things would help to determine the outcome. I am not knocking survival, especially when it comes to the breast cancer diagnosis, but it’s like treading water to keep from drowning. You can only do it for so long before you tire and go under. I may have gone under a few times, but I eventually resurfaced. And I will again, no matter what changes may surface.
That’s another story. . .
Categories: That's Another Story