I always thought I did. I was fond of saying things like:
- I need a change
- Life’s more fun when you have new things happening all the time
- Things get so boring when they remain stagnant
And I happen to think that over the years, I’ve embraced typical so-called changes pretty well.
The empty nest? An opportunity for me and my husband to catch up with one another; as well as a natural progression for our sons.
Losing a parent? None of us escapes death, and my father lived a good, long life.
Menopause? After losing two dear friends who never made it that far, I’m lucky to be here to feel those hot flashes and mood swings. Bring it on.
(Are you ready for this?)
If you’ve been following my posts, you might be surprised. After all, so many of you have responded with positive comments – “Good for you for being a glass-half-full-kinda-gal!” – and lauding me as a role model – “I’m going to be watching your progress as I contemplate downsizing,”
I’m having a tough time. It caught me by surprise after the moving-honeymoon is winding to an end, with the last of our cartons being emptied.
(The other night, I had a dream that I was in back in high school. It was the first day of classes and I was lost. I didn’t have my schedule and I couldn’t find my classrooms. Sheer panic.)
I’m missing my routine; “my” places, my route that I could drive practically blindfolded, every curve in the road etched into my memory.
I’m also missing things like:
- My gym.
- My grocery store.
- My bank, dry cleaners, drug store
- Even my mailman.
Maybe it’s that feeling of connectedness that is lacking. Or perhaps it’s lack of a routine (even though I rebel against having one, seeing myself instead as a laid-back version of my younger self).
But this much is true: By midlife, we do become comfortable with… comforts. Comfortable with knowing where we’re heading, how we’ll get there, and what will be there when we arrive.
Don’t get me wrong. Moving is great. It shakes up your comfort systems, forces you to do things like remember lots and lots of details and new names, helps you purge and get rid of all that unnecessary “stuff” that’s accumulated over the years. (I’ve never come so close to considering myself a hoarder…)
But I think I expected to plunge right in and never look back.
There is a bit of routine in me, after all.
And maybe by the time that last carton is unpacked, I’ll know my way around the neighborhood. Not blindfolded, but maybe with one eye open/closed.
Psst…If you missed my post about the entire moving process and what it was really like, you can read it here.
How do you feel about change? What are some ways you’ve dealt with it – good or bad?