"Thoughts on Change"
(c) by Shirley Butler
It seems I read somewhere that changes in our lives, even for the better, can be so stressful because of the fear of the unknown. There is an old parable about this that I like. A man is drowning in the middle of a raging stream. The only reason he has been able to keep his head above water is that he has managed to grab onto a large, craggy rock. But the rushing water is bashing his body against the rock, over and over again, battering him black and blue and breaking bones. But he hangs on, even though the rock may kill him in the end, because worse than the pain of the battering is the fear of what will happen to him downstream, if he lets go of the rock.
I've just been through a change in my circumstances, though nothing quite so dramatic. I have had Multiple Sclerosis for about 20 years, and since it came on rather slowly, I've had a chance to adjust to it, and to my surroundings. But now, my husband and I have just relocated from Los Angeles to San Jose, California. Although it will, in the long run, be a change for the better, there has been a lot of fear involved.
On the one hand, the weather here, which should be a little cooler, will be good for me. On the other hand, this new place is totally strange to me. At home I knew where everything was...my pharmacy, grocery store, movies, doctors, safe areas to pull over when I was driving and felt tired or dizzy, which restaurants were handi-capped accessible, etc. Here, even with a map I'm not sure where I am.
The stress started when my husband moved up here three months before me, and I was on my own. That was made easier, as I have friends in the area we moved from and I've been alone before. The stress of waiting was what took its toll. Putting the house up for sale ~ ~ and waiting ~ ~ and selecting an offer and waiting for close of escrow ~ ~ and contracting for repairs ~ ~ and waiting ~ ~ and choosing a mover ~ ~ and waiting ~ ~ and the actual move itself ~ ~ and waiting (and praying) for movers to arrive.
But the waiting was finally over and the easy part arrived (easy for me, hard for my husband). The six-hour drive up here (if I have a map and a full gas tank, I'll go anywhere) was a piece of cake.
And now we're here, and I'm gradually venturing out on my own and exploring. I've gotten lost a couple of times, but found my way home again (always circle right); haven't caused any accidents (of which I'm aware), and not run out of gas.
So maybe I'll survive this change, and maybe it will be a good thing. But it will be a long time before I really learn my way around, a long time before I'll be relaxed when I drive somewhere alone, and many a moon before I'll be as "comfortable" here as I was at "home". Yet I'm excited about exploring again, and anxious to find new places and meet new people.
And anyway, who said being "comfortable" was so good for the soul?
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