From One Thing to Another

Keep on growing, even if you’re old as dirt

…Who we are and how we play our part is mostly invisible because we don’t notice how we form an identity out of social conditioning.

That looks too random to me, too willy-nilly. I think we need to take control of that process of building who we are and how we live. Otherwise we end up living someone else’s life but not our own. You become strong when your roots go into your most fundamental being. Imitation of others should be temporary, not a way of life, not a way to have an identity.

Recognizing what is basic in you and caring for it is the right first step, and you have to respect and encourage yourself to follow your innate path. Something in you knows what is most meaningful and beautiful to you. It’s best if you respect and protect that instinctive knowledge, because it will be devalued by others. It’s essential to insist upon what you naturally love, even if others don’t.

–David Price, a writer on Medium

Is it possible to recognize when we are changing? Do we have the ability to notice when we are in the immediacy of becoming different?

My normal, everyday sense of myself is that I am the same to myself every day. I am not emotionally supercharged, but rather have evolved into a ship that glides in a straight horizontal line across a glassy sea. I seem to prefer this equilibrium to any sudden alteration in my path or extremes of highs and lows. While I appreciate the opposite in others (most of my friends are way more emotional and hyperactive than I am) I like my life to be, in the main, predictable and serene.

This may be due to some hard living with a bipolar, borderline personality disordered husband for 13 years. There was enough adrenaline pumping insanity and domestic combat to last me many lifetimes. I came out of the marriage battle-scarred and my blood pressure way too high, but I vowed to never, ever do that to myself — or my kids — again, so help me god.

But I also believe this is who I am. I am hardwired to be even keeled. It’s the result of my biology, genetics, and life experiences. Part of it I attribute to being introverted. But I also seem to need a good measure of quietude in order to mull things over and see what makes sense.

Lately, though, I feel something new is happening. Nothing monumental, but more like tiny rumblings from the underneath. Which is making small dents in something I thought was carved out in stone. Maybe this old edifice needs a refresh.

I altered my coffee setup and routine due to repeated disappointment over how mediocre my coffee was tasting in the morning. I can’t tell you how much happiness this has created for me each time I savor how good my coffee has become as a result of a few small but impactful alterations to how I make it.

I have been an advocate of cold showers for a few years due to the abundant information out there about the benefits of cold exposure on the body. What I’ve noticed is that this has led to my ability to better tolerate my poorly heated old house this winter. After repeating hundreds of times the insanity of jumping into the coldest water my pipes have to offer, I now realize who is the boss of this slowly deteriorating body of mine and has made frigid showering feel, while not pleasant, grimly tolerable. Et tu, winter cold.

I make virtually all the food for Thanksgiving dinner which, in the past, was not pleasant. I believe my perfectionist tendencies hounded me to create a meal that was bountiful, every dish great tasting and all of it delivered at the exactly correct temperature (trust me, it’s impossible) to the table. This year was different.

While I was still strategic and super organized, the stress was gone. I’m not certain why that was but I believe it has something to do with finally integrating my mom’s hyper organized ways into myself. In the past, I never fully appreciated it in my mom or myself. I don’t know if that has led to the wearing down of my need to be perfect, but what I am feeling is that I can trust in what I can do and let go of what I can’t.

A side note. I’m learning to use my good stuff. The good dishes, the good clothes, the things I’ve purchased because I thought they were beautiful. Why hoard things you love but never use? Life is too short to eat on the plates with chips in them and wearing the sweater that smells like your cat and has holes in it. This is too reminiscent to me of my own procrastinating ways. Don’t put off using the good stuff!

These are not mind blowing transformations but they do give me the sense that my life is not written in stone even at this stage in my life. If I can allow myself sway in small things, so too with the bigger things. I am beginning to understand that a new choice, even small ones, always leads to more changes down the line.

I am also beginning to trust myself. This is a big deal. I’m starting to prove to myself that I can chart a course that will lead me to where I want to go. I can do things differently, starting small. To be honest, these days when my mortality is increasingly apparent to me I’m not sure what constitutes small or large.

All I know for sure is that any moment in life can be a pivot point. And I am beginning to believe I am savvy enough, organized enough, and accepting of myself enough to git to where I need to git.

My morning’s often include taking in the sunrise because I am old and my eyes pop open while it’s still dark. This morning was no different. Witnessing the slow transition from darkness to light always carries this reminder.

You’re not done yet.

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.

~ Goethe