A mother. A daughter. A topic.
I thrive on Change.
I initiate it.
I get bored without it and then if things get too quiet, I initiate it some more.
I guess that makes me a change junkie.
But…I also like routine. A small amount of routine to balance out all of the changes I create in my life. Like when the dogs get fed each day; or the way I like to have a cup of coffee in bed every morning before getting up, but then have to be fully dressed with make-up and jewelry on and bed made, before going back downstairs to start my day.
You know…the OCD kind of routine stuff.
I’m not a maniac or anything. I’m just a weird kind of change junkie who also happens to like having things orderly around me.
And everything needs to move quickly.
I like my changes to happen fast.
(Clearly, that whole patience thing is not my strong suit)
I think it has to do with the fact that my hair grows really really fast.
I never worry about getting my hair cut (apparently some women absolutely flip out over the idea of cutting their hair!). But my hair grows freakishly fast. So when I get bored with my hair style (which happens every few months or so) and decide I need to get a new haircut (as soon as possible) – I just do it. And if it ends up not being something that I like (which is rare because I have an amazing hair stylist)…I don’t freak out because I know it won’t take more than a few days (ok…maybe a couple of weeks) before it grows back to where it started, and then I’ll get to change it again.
So I started to try to figure out if someone was a “change agent” or “change adverse” by figuring out if their hair grew quickly or not. Typically I found that people with fast growing hair would accept and/or initiate change much better than someone whose hair took forever to grow back.
So I labeled it the “Speedy Hair Growth Theory.”
It totally makes sense. If someone with slow growing hair gets a bad haircut, they’re totally traumatized because they know they’ll have to live with the results of that bad haircut forever…so they extrapolate that feeling into everything else and they become afraid of change!!
It’s brilliant.
Maybe my Speedy Hair Growth Theory is also the reason why I make decisions quickly.
Really quickly. And most of the time it’s a good thing. Once in awhile…I can jump a bit too quickly.
But that’s probably why I also get shit done.
You kind of have to like change, and be able to make decisions, in order to get shit done.
And that’s why I liked running my business. It was in a constant state of change that required a million decisions as our services changed, our people changed, our operational models changed and our level of quality and expertise grew and evolved.
And I knew…if we didn’t change, we wouldn’t grow. But we did grow. And the business evolved into an amazing and successful company. And then it sold. And I was lucky enough to get the chance to change my life again, starting a whole new chapter in my life.
Initiating more changes as I go…and feeding my change junkie habit.
I approach change with a careful combination of stomachaches, nausea, and panic attacks.
Really, it’s a total party.
So I guess I’ll just say that change is kind of a bitch.
But really? It’s not the change that’s tough. Change is good. Change is natural.
It’s what’s supposed to happen (because when things don’t change it’s just boring… and kind of pathetic).
What’s scary isn’t change itself, it’s The Unknown that gets me. I hate The Unknown.
When I was a kid, every new experience was met with debilitating anxiety. Why? Well, other than the fact that I had (have) an (obvious) anxiety issue, it was because I didn’t know what would happen.
(This is where the stomachaches! and nausea! came into play.)
My mom would always tell me not to worry because, “Really? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Well, Mother, I COULD DIE.
And my dad would tell me to stop worrying because it would eventually lead to an ulcer.
So not only did I worry about The Unknown, but also about the giant killer ulcer growing in my stomach.
(AWESOME.)
So instead of embracing change, my fight or flight response has been conditioned to kick into full flight mode whenever something new comes along.
But I’ve been trying to let that go.
Because change is good!
Without change I’d still be unemployed and broke.
(Now I’m just broke!)
Without change I wouldn’t be going to grad school in the fall.
(So I’ll be even more broke!)
Without change I wouldn’t be getting married!
(HAPPY FACE!)
I wouldn’t have bangs!
The Unknown is still scary (and I still get panic attacks), but at least I can appreciate it. At least I can see the good that The Unknown can bring.
(Though if one of you can give me a cheat sheet for grad school, I’d really like that.)
In order to answer this question I found myself walking around my house looking at all of the “stuff” I own and asking myself if I thought one thing or another was the most important.
I knocked lots of things off the list right away. Electronics, clothes, shoes (come on…I like ‘em but I’m not that shallow!), furniture, bake ware….ya know, all the stuff that sits in and on cabinets and closets throughout the house.
And then I thought about my artwork.
The oil painting hanging over the couch in my office was my first piece of art worth more than $100 and I do love it. It’s a beautifully done oil painting of flowers in an exquisite frame. It is the most beautiful painting I own. But truthfully, it’s not even close to being the most important thing I own.
In addition to the painting, I now have 3 amazingly beautiful sculptures that Brian has given me since we separated (I know…don’t even get me started) that I certainly would make a point to grab and put in my car if I was told that I had 15 minutes to gather my possessions before my house were to blow up. But again…when it comes down to it, they aren’t the most important items I own.
So then I thought of all of the sentimental stuff I have.
Obviously, the first thing I thought of was our family photos. After Brian and I split up, I was the one who declared that I would be the keeper of the family photo albums (of which there are probably 20-25) and I have them neatly stacked on top of each other on storage shelves in the basement. Not that I don’t love to look through them, and cherish all of the pictures/history/memories in them…but the reality is that they “live” in the basement. So in all honesty, how can I proclaim them the most important items, when they gather dust in the bowels of my house 99.9% of the time?
Jewelry? I do now have some amazingly beautiful and sentimental pieces, and I would be absolutely heart sick if I ever lost them…(like a necklace that was my mom’s and another from Ally, a watch from my grandmother, earrings from Brian and a bracelet from Matthew) but I just can’t elevate any one of them to the status of “most” important thing that I own.
So how about books? There are a few (not many as I’m not a voracious reader like the other members of my family) that have shaped my life. They influenced the way I look at the world. They occupied hours of my life by taking me to places and times I’ll never visit. They broadened my mind. But they certainly are not the most important things in my life.
So what the hell could it be?
It’s my dogs.
We could get into a philosophical argument as to whether or not our pets are our property or chattel? But the reality is…that they (there are 4 of them now) are the most important “things” in my life.
I don’t treat them like things. I treat them like pets. That I love. And cherish. And care for.
And when it all comes down to it…if my house were on fire, the ONLY thing I would run in to rescue without thinking about it twice…would be my dogs. The rest…while important to one degree or another…are just not the most important things in my life.
It’s funny. I have stuff. Lots of stuff, actually. Too much stuff, some would say.
But what’s actually important?
What would I grab if there was a fire?
What do I love more than anything.
Of course, first and foremost, there’s the dogs. But most days I feel like they own me, and they’re not really things. And the importance that the two of them hold for me should be assumed.
So in terms of actual THINGS that I own, what’s the most important thing to me?
My computer has so much important stuff on in that it would be a total bummer if, for whatever reason, I no longer had it.
But is it the MOST important thing I own? No – it’s definitely not.
I have a ring that Mike gave me several years ago for Christmas. I love it. I wear it every minute of everyday. It makes me happy every time I look at it.
Yeah, I would say it’s a pretty damn important thing that I own. It’s not only beautiful, but holds an incredible amount of sentimentality too.
And the only thing that’s tied in first place with THAT ring is a new ring I got 2 weeks ago.
One of those rings.
THE ring.
The big one.
The one that came with a question and a promise from a boy who wears glasses and who’s my best friend.
Yeah, that’s my most important thing.
:-)
PS: I also got into graduate school for next Fall. I’ll be going to the University of Colorado for Speech Language Pathology. I was trying to come up with a cute way to make that part of the actual post, but I can’t come up with anything. BUT YAY I’M GOING TO GRADUATE SCHOOL.
(Followed closely by OH SHIT I’M GOING TO GRAD SCHOOL.)
(I have no similar fears about getting married.)
I feel great.
Brian feels great.
What could be better?
It’s been six glorious months since I was lucky enough to give Brian (my ex-husband…for those who are new to She Thinks) one of my kidneys.
Following the surgery, it took me about 2 weeks before I felt good enough to move around on my own, and at 7 weeks (to the day) Matthew and I were standing on the top of Machu Picchu in Peru marveling at the beauty and the grandeur of the surroundings, and I couldn’t help thinking about how incredibly good my life was at that very moment.
At that same time, Brian was traveling in Spain with friends, having far more fun than he’d had for some time before. He was able to walk for hours, eat anything they had to offer, and drink to his hearts’ content (although I think he probably pushed that one a bit too hard for so early in his recovery). He was a bit worn out when he returned…but so were the others in his traveling party, so all in all…he did great!
It probably took him 3-4 months before his energy level started to come back in earnest, but today, he’s feeling stronger and healthier than ever.
What could be better?
I can eat whatever I want. I can drink as I always have. And I don’t have to take any drugs at all to keep my remaining kidney working or healthy. It’s doing everything it’s supposed to do all on its own…and doing it beautifully at that!
Brian has to take a handful of anti-rejection drugs on a daily basis…but he’s got them figured out so that they don’t give him any trouble. It’s just a part of his daily routine, and he accepts it as a fact of life with all of the dignity and grace you would expect from the great, laid back kinda guy he is.
My health hasn’t changed at all (which is a good thing)…but as we all hoped…Brian feels a lot better.
It’s that new feeling of health that allows him to look ahead in a way that he wasn’t able to do for a really long time. He knows now that he’ll be around for awhile. He can engage in life again. He can be a part of his kids’ lives for a long time to come. He has a future.
What could be better?
But the really incredible part of this whole thing for me is that we have something new…between us…that’s totally unique and special (even for our crazy relationship).
We’ve always been close. The best of friends. Even through, and in spite of, our divorce. But this is different.
Now we share something that’s more than just a bond. It’s a connection that is so true, so honest and so real, that we don’t have to try to explain our kind of odd and unusual relationship anymore. Not to each other…and not to anyone else. It’s just understood.
And it’s made me appreciate what I have in my life. My health. My kids. My family. My man. My friends. My time to participate as fully as I can in the life I’m so grateful to have.
Honestly, what can be better than that?
(Don’t know the Kidney A-Go-Go story? May I suggest you go here first?)
It’s funny. I’ve been sitting here staring at the screen for about thirty minutes, and I don’t know what to say.
Not because there’s nothing to say… just that I don’t know how to describe the past six months.
I wasn’t the one who had major surgery. I wasn’t the one who had to recover.
But I was there, every step of the way. And I’m here, six months later, thrilled about how awesome it’s all been.
Part of me says, “Wow, six months? Is that it?”, while another part of me says, “THE CALENDAR IS LYING AND HAS IT REALLY BEEN SIX MONTHS?”
But I guess that’s just what time (and life) tends to do…
We’ve done better than I could have ever imagined or hoped for.
(!)
My dad looks great. His new kidney is happy and healthy and seems to love it’s new home.
My mom looks great. Her other organs are enjoying the extra space. (I assume.)
I’ve been able to move forward, because I feel like I can. There’s not this big
WHAT’S NEXT
WHAT’S HAPPENING
WHATWHEREWHENHOWHUH hanging over us all.
We’re all good.
And beyond that, I don’t really think about it anymore.
In fact, I believe that Mom and Dad have stopped thinking about it, too.
This is mostly because time passes and you move on. (That’s life.)
And also because it’s so much a part of our family’s history and who we are. It’s just not a big deal.
But it’s also because our lives revolved around this event for so long… it’s nice not to be obsessed and worried about it. So much of our future was unknown, and now it feels much… clearer.
And easier.
And oh so much more peaceful.
I often forget how “odd” our situation is. How weird people think my parents are. I’m only reminded when I see the shock flit across someone’s face when I tell them our story.
Because it’s part of our “normal”. It’s not weird anymore. It was what was supposed to happen.
And you don’t question or raise your eyebrows at something like that.
You smile, stay thankful, stay happy, and live.