It’s that time again.  Time for a change.  I’ve felt this coming for a long time, but it is scary.  Partly because I’m not so young anymore.  I’m exhausted all the time, in pain every day.  I just want relief, not more discomfort.  But I know, if there is any hope of getting my life back to good, change I must.  Why is it so hard to change, though?  In a recent article called Making Change, Dr. Leslie Becker-Phelps suggests the need to develop “compassionate self-awareness.”  I like that phrase.  It’s the first change I need to make that will enable all the rest.

Change in Relationship Status

I’m becoming single again.  I know it is the right thing for both of us, but I’ve never been good at dealing with breakups.  I realize I’m hurting her more by extending a relationship that isn’t (and will never be) what she wants, than by ending it.  I hope she can see that.  I hope we can remain friends.  She is a wonderful, loving woman with a bright future and a big heart.

Change in Financial Status

My financial situation is a mess.  At my age, with by background, I have little hope of becoming employed again.  Perhaps it’s a blessing.  I have no patience left and do not suffer fools gladly, even when I’m working for them.  I will be exercising my sales muscles, despite my fear and loathing of sales.  It’s the only way I can build my online revenue into something livable.  Fortunately, it’s something I can do anywhere I have an Internet connection.  Which leads me to the scariest part.

Change of Scenery

It’s time to go.  I’ve lived in this house (in a state I detest) for five years.  That’s twice as long as anywhere else I’ve lived since I was sixteen years old.  Wanderlust?  No, believe me, I’d much rather settle in somewhere.  But where?  ”LA’s fine but it ain’t home.  New York’s home but it ain’t mine no more.”  Time has come for a road trip.  I have no money, but I can’t delay it any longer.  A quarter of a century ago, I left New Jersey with my last (damn small) paycheck in my pocket and the clothes on my back.  Put my thumb out on I-95 and I was gone.  If I have to, I’ll do the same thing now.  It will be hard, no doubt.  But staying here is killing me.

Change of Faces

Since the death of my brother in ’06, I’ve been trying to look after my mom.  She’s eighty-one now and still manages to push my buttons.  My best friend, more like a sister to me, lives here and I will miss her more than words can express.  I just can’t stay any longer.  There are people and places I want to see before I die.  That event isn’t as distant as it once seemed.  The time to act is now.  Change can be scary.  But never changing is death.