Friday, February 15, 2013


I don't like it. I don't adjust well to it. I know it happens and people say it's inevitable. Some even say it's good. Maybe sometimes it is. If I, myself, am initiating the change it's easier. That might sound selfish. In fact, I'm sure it does, but it's not coming from a selfish place.  I rarely initiate change. Instead I've spent most of my life to trying to find a place to fit into. A place where I'm comfortable, accepted, loved, and dare I say happy. When I find that (or think I've found that) then I don't want it to change. Who would?  But it does. People change, even the ones who claim they can't. They stop doing what they used to do. Saying what they used to say. Stop looking at you the way they used to look at you. Lifestyles change. Habits change. Activities change.

Being a some what logical person I always have to find a reason for things. If something changes and I can't understand why, I need to figure out why, because somewhere in my twisted logic I think if I can fix it, it can go back to the way it was. This never works. NEVER. Instead it will normally make everything worse. And all of the "changing" ultimately takes away the comfort, acceptance, and love that made my life a comfortable place. I end up lost and vulnerable. I don't like that either, so usually after years of trying and failing to get that back, I start to shut things out. I don't know exactly how to explain it, and I don't do it on purpose. People talk about "building walls" and I guess, in a way, it's like that. It's not that I don't want to feel anything, because I do. It's more like I just shut off. Like inside I have some kind of limit as to how much pain or sadness I can feel and once I've reached that limit, a flip is switched. I can feel it coming and I even try to communicate that, but obviously I'm having a hard time now, so saying the words must sound even crazier. In any case, once the switch is flipped, I retreat to a different comfortable place inside myself, and this is when I normally initiate my own change.  It sounds like a cycle. Maybe it is, but it's not done out of desire. I'm sure of this. It's done out of need. It's a survival mechanism.

This could be normal. I'm not really sure, to be honest. I just know that this is how I work (or perhaps, don't work is a better choice of words.) How do you explain this?  How could anyone make allowances for it?  Who would want to? At what point do you suck it up and realize maybe all this wanting to "go back" simply means it's really time to "go forward".

Hope, who is ironically calmer than she has been in a while.


  1. I think "Change" is difficult for most people.. I think it is pretty normal to fear it. I have been told that it is not healthy for me to build walls, for me it is a coping mechanism that I do out of fear and to protect myself. I still do it, it is almost like I'm on autopilot. I am envious of people who seem to have that free spirit, who just goes with the flow. My husband is pretty laid back and I see how much less stress he has. ( My personal problem with change would be my lack of control over circumstances, because I like the feeling of control.) I am working on the whole control thing. Would love you to visit my blog sometime.

    1. I need to work on that as well...obviously. ;) Visiting now! :)

  2. I agree, most people struggle with change. The times of change that have been most difficult, at least for me, are almost always preceded by the the times I have been the most happy. Ironically, change is a permanent fixture in our lives, designed to lead us to the next happy time (that we'd rather not change). It's also always there when we're in a miserable situation and need to move away from it. I don't know if that sounds comforting or alarming.

    But aside from change, your post is about limits. Particularly with regard to how much pain or sadness you can endure. My anxiety has always been at its worst when I think about my limits. And the same limits that were "flipping the switch" to prevent more pain than I thought I could bear are also the ones that prevented me from accepting love, and welcoming happiness. Because by accepting and cherishing those things more deeply meant that the pain of losing them would be even greater. I put a lot of thought into this and wrote this once:

    "I don't know why things are the way they are, but I know all of the bad stuff will pass. Maybe it will get worse before it gets better, but I've quit saying, "I don't think I can take much more."

    Why? Because it's self-limiting, as well as self-fulfilling.

    "I can't take much more of this shit," is a line in the sand. Because it's within your power, you draw the line. Pretty soon, more of this shit (over which you have very little control) crosses it. Before it does, you've added another problem to an already long laundry list of shit you don't want in your life. In spite of and because of the line, you worry about what's going to happen to you when the shit crosses the line.

    Well, what is going to happen? Maybe you're going to cry. Maybe it's going to get so heavy that you yell at everyone you love. Maybe you're going to feel disappointed and hurt...again."

    Or maybe, you're going to get through all of it and realize that while you can't go back to the time before whatever "it" is happens, you can know that you survived it, and the actual line is much farther away than the one you had drawn.

    I won't say I've completely stopped drawing lines. I do think about it more before I do it, though, and it's helped. A lot.

    Longest comment in blog history? Maybe.

  3. Wow. I'm just seeing this now and yes, if there were an award for the longest blog comment, it will be filled with nachos and a tasty drink, and it would be yours.

    I get all that. Intellectually. I guess, maybe, I don't "feel" it? I don't know. Since I wrote this I'm still in that calmer state, which is good. But at the same time, I feel like it's because I stopped giving a shit. (or as much of a shit).

    This might not make sense. I think I still have a fever. :)

    Lunch when this evil flu-like monster releases me from it's grip.