Change

This has to be one of the more serious challenges in life, right?

I believe we have to run slamming into the wall of ourselves before we shake our heads, metaphorically concussed,and have one blinding flash of a moment when we realize: I have to change.

And how painful is changing?

I can only speak for myself of course. Even though I hear about others' moments of enlightenment. I'm not a believer in self help tomes whatsoever. We are all on our own unique journeys but I do believe that listening to others can light a little spark in ourselves.

I am self-destructive by nature. I've had the therapy, I've crossed the Rubicon a few times, I've been part of support teams for yonks.I can't say it's a constant battle not to fall into the pit of multiple addictions again, but ageing (bless it!) is quite a benefit to people like me. I also hang (now virtually) with some long time recovered addicts.

But other habits creep back in. Poor daily living management. Especially during the pandemic where normal checks and measures are not in place. Add winter to this, a solitary life, and I had unconsciously sunk pretty low.

My "wall" was Daughter calling me yesterday with a list of phone numbers. She had been concerned about me on Saturday when we were together. I had no energy, was close to fainting a few times and was basically shrugging all this off as "normal" for me. My new normal. Slithering in under the door. I remembered a friend who was so sick and couldn't move anywhere, calmly sliding an office chair under her butt and navigating through her home on the chair, stopping every few spins for breath. For a couple of weeks. The new normal until a friend dropped in and called an ambulance and she nearly died in ICU. Mini-strokes and pneumonia.

The numbers Daughter gave me (after an intensive government search and communications) were for an occupational health assessment and a social worker.

It takes me a while to process change. I know I have to. But after her call, I had one of those blinding moments. This sedentary life, Covid or not, is killing me. And incidentally stressing Daughter out who sees me far more clearly than I see myself.

How will I turn it around, if ever? (Rhetorical question).

Change

Isn't life all about change though?

Then why do we never anticipate it, never allow for it, resist it, complain about it, why me dear lord it, and battle it?

My life has been full of changes. I won't pollyanna it by saying they were all good.

Everything I had to let go of had claw marks all over it.

Marriage, for ever and ever amen partnerships, addictions, moving, moving again and again. Daughter estranging herself. Love gone sour. Friendships tanking. Jobs not working out. Children. Babies starting school. Grandchildren growing up and adulting right before my eyes.

I could make lists and lists upon lists.

What brought this on?

Good question: as those professional lying speakers and politicians say (along with "we're taking this very seriously" when you know they're not at all)

Changing my diet, my life plan, my comfort eating, my foodie status. Growing up yet again.

Three days into it.

Radical change. Huge claw marks awaiting peaceful and accepting transition.

More on this later.