“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

-Attributed to Lutheran theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971). 

I’ve been trying to find a way to write this with a measure of ambiguity or, at the very least, eloquence. But after staring at a blank screen for hours, I must acquiesce. There are some feelings that can’t be wrapped in a bouquet or spritzed with a lovely perfume. Sometimes, our insides are just dark and dirty. My truth is, I feel like a loser. 

I have a deep connection to firsts. They mean far more to me than to anyone I’ve ever known – possibly more than they should. Since I was young, I’ve not only relished all my “first-time” moments, but most of them have been documented. First roller coaster; the Double Loop at Geauga Lake, first road trip; Niagara Falls, first pet; a black and white cat named Sleepy, first concert; Michael Jackson, and first kiss; my 7^th grade best friend’s boyfriend (almost thirty years ago and I still feel bad about that one).

Muscle memory - the ability to reproduce a particular movement without conscious thought, acquired as a result of frequent repetition of that movement.

In my last blog, I wrote about change and taking the first steps out of my safe and predictable emotional life. I wrote confidently because I could see the desired changes so clearly. I saw how my perspective has shifted concerning issues I previously thought were unmovable, and I was ready to bravely venture into the unknown. But I hadn’t considered the broad force of muscle memory. I hadn’t considered that although my vision and desires have expanded, I still must wrestle with my controlling nature – my need to stay safe from any impending emotional pain.

For me, there are three landmark moments of a crisis, major event, or life-changing season. First, there’s the out-of-body moment you see the tsunami rolling towards you; the time after you are swept away by the brute force of the waves, fighting with all you have for each precious breath; and the moment it all ends, and you’ve yet to realize that you’ll never be the same.

“Never contract friendship with a man that is not better than thyself.”

Confucious

I was talking to a dear friend, and they said, “You are such a perfect human,” with no hint of irony or humor. They were actually serious! Of course, we all know that isn’t remotely true, but it was shocking to learn that anyone who’s spent more than an hour in my presence could earnestly consider me… perfect. And then I thought about that fantastic but often-exaggerated word. According to my dude Webster, one of the denotations of perfect is satisfying all requirements (love, Love, LOVE, that definition!). And when we call one another perfect, I believe that’s what we most often mean. Not that we’re without fault, flaws, or defects, but that we nestle perfectly into one of the barren or broken caverns of our hearts.

Recently a dear friend said, “Things change. Why would you expect them to stay the same?” The question was almost laughable. I haven’t had the luxury of a life that could warrant me expecting things not to change. I’ve fallen from heights so high I still haven’t recovered. In a few blinks of an eye, I’ve gone from decorating my home to sleeping on the floor of my church, from listening to ocean waves off the shores of Monterey to chipping ice off the side mirror of my Jetta in Cleveland. I could get whiplash just thinking about the violent changes of life. But my rabbit hole of thoughts made me realize that while I certainly don’t expect life to stay the same, I do expect people to.

Man… that was one challenging year! Possibly the first year of my life where I experienced more tears than laughter. I used to view New Year’s as a clean slate, a new sheet of paper to map out new plans and possibly create a new life. Well, in my “old age,” I no longer see things this way. On January first, my dad was taken into the ICU and intubated because he couldn’t breathe. Someone I considered a friend showed me just how little I mean to them. And my financial woes have oozed right into 2023. Obviously, my season of life didn’t change with the calendar – I was a fool ever to think it would. But I’m elated to see that my responses to those same ole situations have shifted as I’ve matured.