Leap and the Net will Appear

Leap and the net will appear. That is my favorite magnet at the Whole Foods check out while contemplating if it is really worth $5.99. Eventually I caved and bought the damn thing because in waiting for the net, I figured it might be helpful to have insurance of sorts.

I have made a big change. A Life Change as the spiritual gurus and life coaches say. It sounds better than it feels.

Change is important, change is vital and changes define who we are, who we meet, how we interact with our family and friends, where we go, what we want and the genesis of what makes us happy. Our mantra… [See posting: Get a Mantra…] Yet it is frightening, difficult, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. In essence, change sucks.

Some changes are involuntary, like getting divorced or dumped or having someone die. Those changes I classify under GA. God Awful. Mine is not that kind of change.

Some change is voluntary…but dreadful. These are the moments when you are riding the rails and know you have to jump left or right. You can keep holding on but your hands are getting worn and your situation isn’t improving. You are sure things are not getting better but you are uncertain what you’re jumping into. “In order to change, we must be sick and tired of being sick and tired.” A brilliant quote attributed to someone named Anonymous.

I know very few people who regret big changes. I remember bumping into a friend who had become quite a well-known photographer. He had a niche and gambled on hiring a very expensive, but national rep. The other photographers laughed at him. He was hired for several national campaigns and copyrighted some of his images. He made money and was successful. He jumped and apparently the net appeared. We like these stories because they reassure us that things occasionally work out well.

I am often motivated to make big changes when I am fed up. I can’t walk another step. My friend Anonymous also said: “When it becomes more difficult to suffer than change—then you will change.” That is usually when I take up the cause. But I give in to my black and white thinking—this was my life BEFORE and this will be my life AFTER. I am not very good at contemplating the in-between. The ramifications.

The Wednesdays mornings at 7 AM when I finish up at the gym, pick up my towel to head out and am suddenly overtaken by the impulse to just cry. Not a weepy, sentimental sad movie cry. A guttural, I-think-I-might-lie-down-on-the-basketball-court-and-sob-for-a-while kind of cry. An air-sucker. I realized it might be inconsiderate to my fellow gym rats and stalwartly wiped away my tears, but was astounded at my lack of control. I didn’t feel my sweater unraveling or sense my seams tearing. It was sudden and unexpected.

We often talk about the A-Ha moment. People don’t usually mention the Uht-Oh moment. The I kind of liked my cave, it was dark, but it was mine moment. This is when the Talking Heads come to mind. A great band that I mindlessly started drinking beer and kissing boys to. That uniquely bizarre beat starts ringing in my ears as I am transported back to the eighties and hear:

“And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go to?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right…Am I wrong?
And you may ask yourself
MY GOD…WHAT HAVE I DONE?”

That is the Uht-Oh moment.

It didn’t help that Speckled Biter fell down the stairs this week. I thankfully didn’t see it, but I heard it. It was one of those awful thump, thump, thuds that ended with a heap of speckles on the floor while I evaluated the damage. It didn’t appear to be a canine catastrophe worthy of a night in the emergency ward. He could put weight on his back leg. After hugs and kisses we limped off to bed.

At a trip to the vet’s the next day I dissolved into tears once again while we contemplated the possible future for an 11 ¾ year old dog. She mentioned blown gaskets, knee joints, surgery and something dreadful called “touch toe” lameness. We hobbled home, loaded up on pain meds and hoped for the best. I just couldn’t forge through the beltway of change without the Speckles to spoon with. He is my constant.

So I guess in times of change we rely on those we can count on. Those who will pick us up after we fall down the stairs. Those who love us blown gaskets and all. Thankfully Speckles is back on all fours. Nothing vital was lost. All spots are in tact.

It got me to thinking that we don’t remember the thump, thump, thud. We remember the outcome, not the in-between. It is like the vacation that probably looks a lot more fun in pictures than it really was. That is the way change is. When we get home we show all our friends the smiles, the beach, the lavish meals. Not the fight over the lost ferry tickets or the bitchy stewardess who we glared at for hours. Those details are lost. The in-between. It is inarguably unpleasant so it is probably best forgotten. To know we made it through the journey and came home to our constants.

I am waiting for things to get better. For the unfamiliar to become the mundane. To the time when I chuckle and think back to “Remember then…” But in the meanwhile I cling tightly to my spotted friend delighted he has all four legs and know that somehow the net appeared as he tumbled down the stairs.

I am sure it will be the same for me.