Is 'bad' change good? #57
Embracing change and letting yourself evolve from it.
Dear Lovely You,
I love change.
Even 'bad' change.
My body and mind thrive on change.
It energises me and makes me feel alive.
But I have resisted it for years, thinking I needed stability and security to stay safe and being blocked by others who definitely don't like change, I allowed myself to become stagnant.
Stability and security don’t keep you safe though.
Life happens anyway.
Good things.
Unpleasant things.
But mostly mundane things in between. Thank goodness.
A big change ahead
I am excited to finally be getting ready to move house. We've been working hard to get the house and garden ready but it’s taking a long time to shift twenty six years of stuff. Twenty six years of memories. Twenty six years of we’ll keep it just in case.
There's still a lot to do.
Clearing out the attic. Yuck! A mouse infestation meant lots of poo to clear up and a cough from the dusty insulation for several days after.
But change is good. Keep going.
Spring cleaning. Clearing out bags and bags of old paperwork and seeing space. Lovely.
Clearing out cupboards of things I haven’t thought about for years and forgot were there.
Clearing out things we kept just in case but that never got used.
Letting go of books was harder. So many memories and emotions in books. But I can cook! I don’t need recipe books and if I do there’s always the internet.
The charity shop were thrilled and Ahh… more space.
Hmm…. I’m not a gardener so why so many gardening books? A phase. Another time when it felt right. They can go too.
A poster of British trees in tip top condition safely stowed away and forgotten but I know exactly the little person to send it to. I love the warm glow that giving things away gives me.
The wrench of change
And the garden. Never clipped and restrained too much but now cherished roses battle it out with grasses that the meadow ants are helping to spread. Meadow ants are rare my son tells me, so that makes it even harder for me to even think about destroying their habitat.
The tansy I planted in the herb garden has completely taken over. It’s now in danger of strangling the bay shrub and is pushing up through the path.
Today the bottom of a mole was seen wiggling around, head down as it burrowed back into the earth at the corner of one of the raised beds. It’s welcome.
And raised beds once full of raspberries, pumpkins and beans are now suffocating with hazels where the squirrels had buried their forgotten winter supply of nuts and comfrey that topples over the lawn.
Lawn is a bit of an exaggeration. The grass and weeds and moss are a kind of mini ecosystem. If my son doesn’t get around to mowing for a few weeks, some weeds quickly sprout skywards, flower and go to seed. Like an old meadow would in days gone by.
I love that bumble bees still burrow into the hill at the back of the house and the spinney is still a haven for wildlife, when so many places are sterile from pesticides and chemicals.
This will be the biggest wrench. Leaving the garden to whomever comes here and knowing they might force it into submission, sending wildlife away to try to survive elsewhere. But where?
With change come losses as well as gains.
From the courtyard door, I watch the birds coming to the birdfeeders. The lesser spotted woodpecker has been a regular visitor this year. Perhaps raising a second brood.
Cheeky sparrows queue up on the bird cherry and winter jasmine with great tits, blue tits and siskins, squeezing through the squirrel proof cage around the feeders.
Magpies swoop into the courtyard to mop up cat food that we leave for the feral cats who have done a great job of keeping the rat and mouse numbers under control but have now decided this is their retirement home.
Safe in the knowledge that the cats have grown lazy, dunnocks and pigeons peck at the floor.
Paths have been cleared so that legs don’t get brushed from overhanging branches when it rains (which it’s done a lot this year) and grass removed and bagged so feet can also stay dry.
Our old volvo estate, back seats laid down flat so it’s like driving a van, has carried sacks and sacks of garden waste and all the other just in case things from the shed (much of which has been there for the twenty six years we’ve lived here) to the recycling centre.
I’m glad most of it can be recycled but it makes me sad to see that not everyone sorts their rubbish like we do and a lot still goes to landfill.
It’s a lot of work getting a house ready to move and there’s still a lot to do.
But I have the motivation and the energy for it now because I’m getting better and recovering from years of chronic illness and well… change....
Change helps me grow and evolve as a person.
When bad things happen that enlivens me too. Not because I want bad things to happen but because I can see clearly what needs to happen, where I can help and what I can do.
I evolve through change, learning more about myself, life and the world.
When bad things happen I don't want to admit it, but it excites me.
It excited me when my son died. Yes I was sad too. Devastated and grief stricken.
And… I knew what to do. How to support my family. What to write in his eulogy. How to express what I was feeling and how I felt about him. How to be a grieving mother. HOW TO FEEL.
But I stopped myself feeling all the feels because that didn't look right on the outside.
I shut down instead. Stifled my energy. Stopped expressing myself through writing to friends and family and got on with the monotony of life.
Keeping safe or so I thought.
I killed myself. Killed my spirit and lived a half life. Not feeling. Like a robot.
But I am not a robot.
Shit happens. That’s life sometimes.
Now a 'bad' thing is happening again. I know what to do. I know who I am in this situation. Who I want to be. How I can support.
And also, these days, what my limits are.
Change isn't good for everyone. And change for its own sake can be a mistake.
But change happens anyway and holding onto the past is crippling.
Keep what's working for you.
But if you're someone who thrives on change, like me, you may need to switch things up a little.
It doesn’t have to mean burning all your bridges, moving house, changing jobs, getting a divorce or getting married, travelling the world…
Small changes can help to bring that vigour back into your life.
Declutter. Move the furniture or pictures and ornaments around. Drive somewhere different for a walk or take a different route to work.
Listen to completely different music for a week. Learn how to cook hungarian food. Go and shop in a local deli or wholefood shop instead of the supermarket. Or learn how to forage food for free.
Go for a long walk like Raynor Winn and her husband did when they lost everything, became homeless and he was diagnosed with a terminal illness and see how it can change your life.
Stand at a window and watch birds or lie on your belly and watch ants.
Paint a wall bright green. Use hot colours instead of neutrals or vice versa.
Try new things. A workshop. A talk. Read something completely different.
Or do that thing you have secretly been thinking about doing for ages.
With change comes an opportunity to experience life differently or to allow yourself to do change differently, to find aspects of yourself you didn’t know existed or hone those that have been a bit stale and dormant.
And let me know what you think. Leave a comment, share or subscribe to reply to this email letter or give it a like. 👇👇👇
With Love
from My True Self to Yours
Karen xx
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I love this. Thank you. X
Change has been a big part of my healing path. It’s the first thing I managed to get going with (which, interestingly, was against specialist medical advice). And change is still a big part of my life now 6 years on. The funny thing about it though is change is inevitable, so why do we resist it? An action that takes us against the flow of life (linked, in part, to root cause of migraine disease when looking at it from an emotional level).
I feel for you on the 26 years of sorting. I had phenomenal amounts when I moved 4 years ago, I’ve moved twice, sorted through loads, sold plenty, gave most away and I still have a toilet room full to the rafters of what’s left (not that much for such a small space, but, still, it continues).
I’m looking forward to seeing the big shifts this ‘space’ creates for you. That’s one thing that i know is coming for sure.
In my own personal circumstance, it does not escape me that the remnants of my physical clutter is comparable to the remnants of ill health.
I went away with friends recently and their cases and bags were so very heavy whilst mine were so light and small (causing them both much added worry and panic). Fascinating stuff.