Change was Coming

I am a planner. Ken and I set our wedding date over a year before we were married, which was unnecessary in 1976. Each of my pregnancies was planned. And I prepared for months each time I went back to school. The lack of preparation for our move to the country was unusual for me, so from the beginning I felt unsettled.

The good news was that we did not need to paint the exterior of the house. The interior was 95% finished, though we needed to paint each room and all the woodwork. Ken and I spent nine days from sun-up to midnight smoothing, prepping, and painting walls. Then I begged off my classes and internship for another week to finish enough to move in.

We spent a week-end moving furniture and boxes, but we left a lot at the old house because our daughter was staying there. She had gotten her first choice for residency, which was in the same city. She moved in as we were moving out, though neither task was finished for months. Then she decided to buy the house, and I was delighted. I always felt that house had taken care of our family and felt that it would take care of her.

Unpacking took months. We had little storage so things we put in use or passed on. We wanted to make the house presentable because we had an occasion to celebrate ~ our daughter's graduation from medical school was June 2. It was such an accomplishment and we were so proud! A small reception to celebrate was the first time we had guests in our new home.

Then life settled into a routine of sorts: I went to work and came home to unpack boxes, organize closets and cupboards, seal floors, paint ceilings, paint "miles" of woodwork, and finish any number of small projects as they came up. I missed my old house and my yard ~ we had finally finished redecorating and landscaping. I missed the neighbors and neighborhood. I felt out of place, physically and emotionally. A lifetime of memories belonged to another place. I kept thinking that if I just had time I could get a handle on life in a new place.

When our youngest left for college, Ken and I talked about what it would be like to be "just us" again. I looked forward to the freedom. For some reason I thought I would become all the things I had never been: more outgoing, less of a perfectionist, more easygoing, less serious, more confident. I could be and do anything I wanted. Instead, once we moved, I fixated on all the things I wasn't and all the things I couldn't do. Night sweats returned. After each restless night I awoke anxious and worried. I was not happy. One Friday on my drive home from work I promised myself that if anything big happened I would make changes in my life.

The next morning my mother called. She had had a stroke and was in the hospital. I wanted to be with her, so I flew to West Virginia. My only focus for a week was being with her and my stepfather. I slept well and felt at ease for the first time in months. My mom improved with the right medication, and we enjoyed the time we had together. Once she was home, she started physical therapy. (Today she is back to work and doing well.)

I flew home on July 1. Two weeks later I gave 30-days notice at work. My supervisors were gracious when I explained that the job wasn't what I thought it would be. I wasn't myself and needed time to regroup.

There is a saying: Be careful what you ask for because you may get it. By mid-August I had all the time I needed to paint, organize, clean, and make our new house a home. I didn't feel better. My body continued to betray me with night sweats, anxiety attacks, and lost weight. Massage therapy had been a mainstay in my life for more than a decade and was a godsend during this time. I had started acupuncture in January for a cold I couldn't kick and continued with treatments for my other symptoms.

I have always been a reader. Now I felt desparate for answers. My daughter had loaned me Conversations with God and I picked it up when I was at my lowest point. I didn't read far before it became obvious that I was not helping myself with my desire to become someone else, someone different from who I had always been. The key to feeling better was to accept myself, to love myself. A friend recommended The Power of Now, which was the perfect book about living in the present moment and accepting whatever happens. Then I read Eat, Pray, Love, a book about one woman's journey through major life changes. Her story encouraged me to move forward in the exploration of who I am and what I want.

The process of acceptance has been slow. I literally checked in with Ken that he would love me through all the changes to come, and he says he will. I started writing in a journal again and found the same theme from three years earlier: how do I make space for myself in my own life?

I do not have the answer yet but I have started asking the question.

Moving to the new house changed my life. I find myself in unfamiliar territory and have to find a way to make it work. My house with light and open space is a metaphor for shining light on all aspects of my life and bringing all that I am into the open. This online journal is part of that process.