I saw my therapist today. She often reminds me of a change model that resonates.  Picture a circle in the centre with three concentric rings around it.  In the centre is the “comfort zone” which she says is more accurately labelled the “what I’ve always done” because even if it is my usual behaviour it might not feel comfortable at all. Immediately outside this core is a ring of fear. Naturally, I’ll feel fear if I try something different than what I have always done. For me, this can be saying no when I would usually say yes, not reaching out to check on someone I would usually check in with, or showing anger that I would usually swallow. Gulp. 

Happily, once through the fear of doing something differently, there is the learning ring. 
Did it go ok? 
Could I tolerate it? 
Would I do it again? 
What I am learning? 

Make no mistake, what I might learn is that initially I suffer a lot when I change. This is not evidence to revert necessarily, but it is information to notice. 

And finally, the outer ring: growth. This is where whatever trials I have done can help bring me to new awarenesses and ultimately a changed way of being. 

The whole model makes complete sense to me intellectually. In practice it is heartbreaking and heart opening all at the same time. 

When I first met Peter, I was fond of a wire that was strung across his mustard yellow dining room wall. On it hung a curated mix of prints: letterpress posters, postcards, tiny business card-like treasures and assorted other things. It was clearly his doing, his work, his tastes. His selections spoke to his high creativity and intelligence, his quirkiness nerdiness and his courage to stand out. I was already falling in love with him and this helped seal the deal. I had no idea I would later learn to be a printmaker too. But that is not what this is about.

Somewhere along the way, in our endless declutterring, uniting our lives (and things), and painting that mustard yellow wall navy blue, the wire came down. And it stayed down until today.

This afternoon we installed the wire in our hallway. It is a place for prints we’ve made or works we love from others. From many possibilities, we chose one of his, one of mine, two from Peterborough printmakers Peter knew, and an intricate hand-drawn piece by my artist friend Bruce Roosen.

I love the look of it. I love the potential of it. And I love that we get to create things to hang on it.

But mostly, I love that the wire reminds me how grateful I am that I get to love Peter.

Today feels like a wasted day.

It’s not that it didn’t have productive elements. (A walk, yoga, reading, paperwork, studio work, and cleaning). I did enough of the “what” to make progress on some things. Lots of it was a privilege even though some of it not preferred.

“How” I did the “what” in my day is another story all together.

I was annoyed. I was in my head overthinking and defending. I was hot. I felt itchy. I felt lonely and not seen. I didn’t smile. It was a sunny and hot day and I didn’t leave the house all afternoon even though I could have.

As I write, the grumpy aura still surrounds me.

What to do?

Blame others? Blame myself? Talk it out?

Minimize it? Avoid it? Breathe and trust that this too shall pass? Pound pillows? Dance?

Write a blog post (which itself could be an intellectual dodge)? Eat chocolate chips? Overthink it more?

The only things I haven’t done yet are dance and pound pillows. These are what might help me most but I’m not promising anything. What if it actually works and I need to let go of my little funk?

One thing I will do is press publish because I’ll bet that I am not alone in this.

If I was making a highlight reel of our weekend, our visit to the pesticide showcase would make the cut. 

I loved it. 

Peter didn’t yes, and me quite as much as I hoped. And I didn’t dare film the bored looking, unsmiling Canadian Tire guy who came to tell us that only his manager had the key and we’d have to wait five minutes. I wish I could have. He was an excellent straight man. 

I also wish I could have captured the friendly manager who arrived to help. I admit that we smirked a bit when he said he’d need to leave our controlled substance at the check out until we finished shopping. 

Next time I encounter the makings of comedy gold, I’ll have waivers on hand. 

For months, I have been feeling some anxiety about all the work we’d need to do to get ready for some summer home exchanges we are hosting. 

I made a mind map. I cajoled Peter into translating it into tasks on our phones. And then I continued to worry that he would not realize the passing of time. I worried that we’d end up doing almost everything in the last week. And then I worried that if anything else sprung up, like say two funerals last week and other things that need our attention, we’d be sunk. 

“Anxiety builds in our idle hours”,  says author Brianna West. “Fear and resistance thrive when we are avoiding the work”. 

I felt like we were avoiding the work and just talking about the work. I wanted us to chip away at the work. And I wanted us to start a few months ago. 

What I realize now, is how much energy I put into the idea that we should start, yesterday. And admittedly, I also held on to the idea that there was no use in me starting until Peter was on board. But sheesh, getting him to feel urgency was not working at all. 

I realize that as much as I like to plan first, I am biased to action. It’s what I got angry about the other day. I am Hoss Chandler’s daughter after all. And I believe that most tasks can be fun and rewarding in the right contexts. For me, the most rewarding context is collaboration, a “we’re in this together” feeling. Plus snacks. 

It gets confusing though, as ambitious action has been a life-long coping strategy too.  Those who know me well, know that I used to make peoples’ heads spin with my constant movement on many fronts. I was avoiding slowing down so I could avoid feeling feelings. 

These days, I feel my feelings but it also feels good when I take the next logical action(s) and have time to reflect and rest if I need it. Just thinking about action will never soothe me in the way that forward action does. 

This weekend, we accomplished a bunch of things. So of course I feel good. And we know we have a bunch more to do this week.  It will get done.  Peter and I are gradually finding a “win for all” in the way we do work together. 

I like how Brianna West concludes her essay:  “it is easier to act your way into a new way of thinking rather than think your way into a new way of acting, so do one little thing today and let the momentum build.”

Ironically, for me the work is in letting go of there being a right way to do things, trusting the process and others. 

But I am always going to feel good in the doing. It is who I am. And I like this about me!