What a beautiful day it has been. Old faces and new. Some visits full of fun and some contemplation and sadness. An unexpected drive to a town an hour away. The joy of my mums company. The warmth of the sun through the window as I drive. The comfort of knowing what I went for was done, quickly, and now to finish a job. Time to think. Space to reflect.
This day, as many, has left me a little richer than I was when I embraced the morning with thankfulness.
Have you ever seen someone that looked like they dropped $50 and found 5cents? There were times in my life it felt like that, if I am honest, too many times. Trying to win bees with lemon juice not honey. Even those times, looking back, gave me a lot.
I was an expert at everything I wanted to do. Seriously. Even if the doing was ignoring every thing that needed done. Yup I did it well. Somehow that place, that lack, that misfit, that misery was strangely comforting. I knew it intimately. I could sit with it for hours. It sung a harmony that resonated with my personal value and perceived place of not belonging.
Strange how a tune, a song no matter how well constructed can feel like it rankles to the very core of who you are. That began to happen to me. I lost the comfort in chaos. I avoided the company of neglect. I got fidgety in the presence of who I believed I was. I knew who I was in dysfunctional — I was terrified of who I would be without it. Well more to the point who I afraid I might be, because really I had no idea. What I was really afraid of was my imagination. Another story I was telling me.
The greatest fears, when I got real, was letting go of what kept me safe: The way I spoke, dressed, acted, did. It was all to protect the version of me I thought I needed to be. There was no way I wanted to grieve, for crying out loud. That was for people that cared about what was left, when what was, is gone. I thought I could not trust who I did not know. Yet to change includes to grieve the loss of what was. It was never who I was anyway.
An elderly lady many years ago shared a story with me. It changed how I saw change and grief. Her words: If you had a rattle snake as a pet. A mean, nasty, wants you dead rattle snake. You feed it, water it, care for it. Clean its cage. Make sure it is healthy and well cared for. And if after 20 years it dies. Regardless of how many times it tried to kill you. You are going to miss it. You will grieve. What I heard: You don’t miss the snake. You miss the way you feel because of your level of commitment. You are invested, committed, and rewarded.
I am chuckling.
In short, I was convinced, it would cost me so much more than I could ever get back. You know like bouncing a huge cheque and wondering what on earth you were thinking…
How sweet are baby steps. I learned that baby steps taken while wearing a size 11 shoe attached to a 160kg woman were equally as delightful. Wobbly at first. Blurred vision, surely hiding the destination. The occasional mess to clean up. The mishaps, the oh no’s and the what on earth’s all fit perfectly with the fist pumps, the high 5’s and the fits of laughter. The uncertainty lost is boogie man status and became one of intrigue.
I began to note, because I looked, that I would willingly give up one thing and equally as willingly grab hold of another. Yet the bank account never ran dry. I could still get up, actually, often bounced up. I could do and do better. I stopped staring at old habits and wanting to change them, beating myself up because it was impossible. Hahaha then I realised that changing the tiniest bit created a new habit, a better one. I couldn’t change a habit because each change meant the old no longer existed. So I stopped wanting the new to merge with the old. Just wow.
First in one area, then another, and another. Each one seemingly separate, different, not connected. And ‘BAM’ just like that they ran into each other. Instead of disjointed snippets — a warm, welcome, sweet smelling blanket that wrapped perfectly around the me I could now see. The one I hid behind who I thought I was meant to be.
The one I never realised would be so amazing. Not better than others. Beautifully unique. Singing a harmony perfectly aligned with the song of life I was meant to sing. There are verses I have no idea of yet. There are stanzas that will change over time. Not taking away from the quality nor the value. Perfectly reflecting it. Warmly sharing it. Not afraid. Confident and comfortable.
What all of this has taught me. Change is not a withdrawal — it is a deposit.
How much deposit?
You get to decide.
Embrace the process — Enjoy the ride.
