Oh, change.
I’ve been trying to find my balance amidst all the change this year has brought me. Somedays successfully…and others…well, not so much. I’ve always found that I have a hard time with change. Which is surprising to me because my life always seems to be full of change. Almost as if I seek out the very thing that is hard for me to deal with. Last week my therapist asked me a very interesting question…”how do you think you’re going to feel after you are married?” Huh, I hadn’t really thought about that. All I have thought about is how I feel now. The pure excitement I feel about becoming Bri’s wife. I recalled a few different responses some of my friends have had after the big day…one felt claustrophobic…one felt let down and a little depressed after the high of the day was over…one said she had never felt better. How would I feel? I didn’t really know.
I sat there thinking about how I thought I would feel and then I remembered the last big change in my life and how I reacted.
Ruh-Ruh…I thought
Seven months ago we bought and moved into our beautiful new loft. A loft that I swear looks exactly like every home image on my vision board. Finding out we got it was one of the most exciting moments. I just couldn’t believe it was going to be ours. I was overcome with gratitude and felt like we were the luckiest people alive. Not to mention I was dying to get out of our miniature and rundown bungalow by the beach. I hated that place and complained about it on a daily basis. It was tiny (I literally had to move Brian’s surfboards every time I needed to get in the fridge), there was no dishwasher (and the sink would back up all the time), little closet space (clothes would fall on my head each time I opened the closet), had no heat (we seriously froze in the winter!) and only one parking space. ( I collected many parking tickets during this time)
I was ready to get the hell out of there. I was so excited in fact I started packing up our place a month ahead of schedule.
But after we moved into our new home my excitement popped like a balloon. Suddenly, I felt depressed. I felt discombobulated. I felt isolated. I felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of it. I just didn’t feel like myself. I actually cried for a few days because I missed our old crappy little bungalow by the beach. I missed having to huddle around the wall heater in the bathroom brushing our teeth in the morning. I missed the cozy holidays we spent there with our Christmas tree taking over the whole living room. I missed the view we had of the park from our windows. I missed cooking dinner with Brian in our tiny kitchen. I fondly remembered the time my heel went through the hard wood floor because of the termites. I remembered laughing so hard we cried because we could hear our neighbor do…well, everything through our paper-thin walls. I missed that bungalow so much that I wanted to be transported back. It was rickety and old but it was oh, so sweet, and filled with charm. Our life felt really simple while we lived there and I’ve come to learn I really like simple.
I felt crazy admitting my feelings to anyone because I thought that they made me sound ungrateful (I mean, who was I to complain??) and I hate seeming ungrateful because I try consciously to operate from a place of gratitude every day. But, as hard as I tried I just couldn’t shake it. I felt depressed. I remember calling my mom and asking, “Why do I feel this way when I am so blessed and lucky? I got exactly what I wanted. What’s wrong with me?”
Many moons have passed since that time and now I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I get home everyday and look around our home with a smile on my face.
I’ve learned that change is hard for me. Even fabulous and exciting change. Even change that I want badly and work hard to create. Growing up and taking on new responsibilities is hard.
But, I wouldn’t change any of it. I am blessed. I am grateful. I am excited. Actually, I’m excited for all the next steps that this life may bring, even if they make my cry for a few days.
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“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” – Anatole France
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