I read am article in a magazine today and I will admit it, it was Oprah. Yes, every now and then I read Oprah. Mostly when I am at my mom's because she seems to always have it around. Anyone who knows me knows that I over think EVERYTHING and what I mean by this is every. single. thing. I cannot recall when exactly this started because it's all I've ever known. From the time I can remember I analyzed things. I once read in a book of astrology that the sign Virgo was represented by the words 'I analyze' and I thought to myself, "great, I'm doomed." I once had a friend tell me that she would hate to have my mind because when she looks at me, she can tell it's working on overdrive. Always thinking. Always.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure my mom picked up this magazine because there was a series of articles based on "How To Become The Person You Were Meant To Be." She's always doing that sort of thing and then casually bringing it up to me. "Oh, here is the latest Oprah magazine on the coffee table. You should look at it." Practically circling and ear folding the pages she thinks I should read. It's all because she loves me so bless her heart and I actually found this one very enlightening and something I've been thinking about lately. The article that resonats most with me was by Amy Bloom and titled, But What If I'm Scared of Change? Really, who isn't a little afraid of change. Lately my life has been nothing but one change after another. I'm really trying to embrace it but it scares the hell out of me too.
Here is the article below:
Change can be wonderful. People improve their appearance, improve their marriages, get great new jobs, even great new spouses. Plus, dear little babies become adorable toddlers, and pretty soon the toddlers can read and then they're having a really nice Sweet Sixteen and their skin clears up and they never talk to you, they fall in love with people you wouldn't allow in your house if you had a choice and they move far away and you rarely get to see the grandchildren.
That's what change is for a lot of us—stuff you have to pretend to embrace even as your heart sinks; you know it's going to end badly and you already feel the inevitable loss. The other awful thing about change is that we want it as much as we fear it and we need it as much as we need safety. I hate my marriage but I'm afraid of being alone. I'm sick of being a lawyer but I don't know how to do anything else.
Good news: It doesn't matter whether you like change or not, whether you embrace it or run in the opposite direction. Not only will changes be taking place, they will be taking place all the time, with and without your participation, from the mouse-sized (they no longer make your favorite suntan lotion) to elephant-sized (death, divorce, and disability). It turns out that even if you make no changes in your lousy marriage, your stultifying job, or your painful relationship with your brother, all those things will change anyway. Your only choice is to take steps toward change (you don't have to quit the job or the marriage all of a sudden), or to wait and see what surprises the universe has for you as you cling to what you thought was safety.
Mostly, change is as inevitable as rain in the spring. Some of us just put on our raincoats and splash forward, some of us choose to stay home, a few admirable nuts shed their clothes and cavort in the yard, and some people go out and get deeply, resentfully, and miserably wet. And no matter what, the rain falls. It falls on dry grass, which is the kind of change we love, and it falls, too, on June weddings and the day you began the Appalachian Trail. Sylvia Boorstein is a Jewish grandmother, a psychotherapist, and a Buddhist, which signifies to me that she must know something about complaining (even quietly) and accepting (not just pretending to). She writes: "We can struggle, or we can surrender. Surrender is a frightening word for some people, because it might be interpreted as passivity, or timidity. Surrender means wisely accommodating ourselves to what is beyond our control. Getting old, getting sick, dying, losing what is dear to us…is beyond our control. I can either be frightened of life and mad at life—or not. I can be disappointed and still not be mad." People get old, plans change, red wine spills on your great-grandmother's tablecloth—there isn't any other way.
It seems to me that the absolute star of accepting change is the Dalai Lama, the easy, gentle master of living in the moment and understanding that life is nothing but transition. My sister is not the Dalai Lama; no one has ever gotten them confused. My sister's approach to change, although not approved by the International Council for the Happy-Go-Lucky, is novel and effective.
Me: Hi, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that x (a member of my side of our extended family) wants to bring someone to Thanksgiving/Passover/anything.
She: Oh. S***. The table will be so crowded.
Me: Umm…
She: It'll be awful. People will be sitting on the patio, practically.
Me: Umm…
She: I'm not making something vegan, dammit.
Me: Umm…
She: Is he/she nice?
Me: Yes.
She: Are they in love?
Me: Looks that way.
She: [Pause] Okay.
Me: Okay? It's okay?
She: [Sweetly] Well, of course. [Patiently] There's plenty of room.
So, maybe, there's an alternative to beatific acceptance of change. Maybe a little grousing helps. Maybe some frank grumbling smooths the way for some genuine acceptance. Maybe the trick is to acknowledge that change is sometimes wonderful, sometimes not, often disturbing, and always happening. Then, make room at the table.
My sister, the Dolly Lama.
