Change is Hard but Worth It

I went for a walk. It was wonderful, but even doing something wonderful that's new requires doing something different. I haven't gone for a second walk yet. It's been raining and then I got sick. But, I'm going to! It felt so good to be outside, move my legs, and look at the grass and trees.

New habits are hard to create.

New lives are heard to create.

But like I always say, what's the alternative? 

Stay where I was? Live in the beautiful 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom, 2-story house with my husband who drank at the sports bar 3 - 5 times a week? Um, no. Absolutely not. Living in my children's house without my children was not an option for me. Not if I wanted to stay alive. I am that serious. Staying married when I could be lonely by myself was also not what I wanted for myself. I deserved more than that.

I gave myself a better life, and I did it by myself. I haven't received any emotional support from my family of origin for my lack of children, my divorce, or the loss of life as I thought it was going to be. I forged the way forward on my own at first, and then I found bloggers in front of me, beside me, and behind me along the way. 

Change isn't easy. That's why most people don't do it. Changing your life takes a lot of work.

That first step can feel impossible.

For me, it was registering to take Anatomy & Physiology I and II at the local community college. The task felt so ovewhelming. There was doing it, like figuring out how to sign up for the class, which overwhelmed me. Then there was following through with it, like actually going to class and doing assignments, which also overwhelmed me.

So I didn't do it. I didn't register for the classes. I didn't go and I didn't have to do the homework.

Then another year passed. And I was in the exact same position. Living in my children's house without my children. Bored. Lonely. Depressed. Still dreading Anatomy & Physiology I & II.

So I did it anyway.

I went online. Created an account. Figured out how to register. Showed up for class. Did my homework. And cried every night.

I didn't want to, but I did it anyway.

Both classes eventually ended. I passed. I applied for grad school, got in, and the rest is history. While I didn't love grad school, I now have a job that I don't hate. Not only do I not hate it, I actually love it. I mean, it's still a job. I work too much and I'd rather not, but, hey, at least I like it!

Change can't wait until we are ready. Change can't wait until we are comfortable. The comfort we're seeking is on the other side of change. Just like with grief, we have to do the work. Well, we GET to do the work. We don't HAVE to do anything. We are totally allowed to stay where we are.

But if you want something different?

You have to cross the street.

You have to take that first step that gets you to the park. And then you have to walk at the park. And then you have to keep going back. And then later, much later (muuuch later than you want, but also time flies so it'll be here sooner than you know it), you'll feel better.

Time passes either way. You can take the class. You can walk at the park.
Or you can stay where you are.

You get to create your life, one decision and one small action (or inaction) at a time.

Change takes time. The Colorado River didn't carve the Grand Canyon in a day.

Picture found here

Unexpected Disclosure

I used to feel very weird disclosing my infertility at work. Well, anywhere really. But especially at work. It felt very weird to disclose something so personal in an environment where I prefer to keep the topics to recipes and the weather. Over time though, like with most everything else...
I just don't care anymore. 

😂😂😂

But here's an interesting story. 

They did a lot of work on my office at my new job. They had to change out some furniture, and they ended up repainting all four walls. Then I got to choose from an approved list and they hung artwork in the hallway. So, I got to know a couple of the facilities guys while they were working.

One day it was just one of them there. He would say "we" when telling a story. Like, "We made homemade chili for dinner last night." Or, "We live outside of town on a lot of acreage." Without thinking (really, without thinking, I can't believe I had a lapse in judgment and I actually said this) I asked, "Who's 'we?' You got a wife and kids?" 

And I swear there was a barely-there pause, a fraction of a hesitation...

He replied, "Oh, I'm married. But no kids. That didn't work out for us."

I whipped my head around so fast and rambled, "Really?? Me too. I mean, I'm divorced. Not married. But kids didn't work out for me either. For us. Oh my gosh, I can't believe I just asked you that. I am so sorry. I never ask people that. I'm so sorry I just asked you that. I can't have kids either. How's your wife? Is she doing okay?"

I can make an awkward situation feel even more awkward. It's a skill I have. I'm a natural.

He just looked at me for a second. I'm thinking maybe he's never talked about this with another person other than his wife before. Maybe one or two other people. A brother or a best friend. But I get the feeling that this isn't something this guy talks about freely. He just looked at me. 

"I always wanted to be a dad."

"Yeah... I always wanted to be a mom."

And neither one of us tried to make it better for the other. Neither one of us tried to fix it with adoption or IVF. Neither one of us offered the common response of "At least you get to travel/sleep in/spend all of your money on yourself!" We just stood in silence in the hallway at work for several seconds.

I thanked him for sharing that with me. I told him that he knows my email address, since we work together, and that I'm available if his wife ever needed support. I said I did not expect to ever hear from her but it's totally fine if I do. 

Then we moved on to our usual conversation, which is where we've had good tacos around town.

But that was a pretty meaningful connection. About infertility. At work.