Change

I get stressed out easily. No, really. I'm kind of like one of those little teacup poodles that could die from an aneurysm if I get too anxious. So, it probably will come as no surprise that change usually doesn't go over too well with me.

As a little girl I used to love to rearrange my room. That is, until night came, when I was then faced with the consequences of my daytime jaunts and I'd get so sad longing for the way things USED to be (which is kind of silly because I could always put things back to how they were the day before just by moving around some furniture). Yes, at ten I was already a nostalgic.

I can still get overly nostalgic today, although I've learned how to cope with a healthy (or maybe not) dose of denial. That is to say, I like to ignore change as much as I can. If I start thinking about the fact that my kids no longer want me to read picture books to them, don't fit in my lap any longer, and will some day move out of my house, I go into full on panic attack mode (including but not limited to: chest pain, blurred vision, dizziness, and the feeling that I'm being sucked down a very dark and endless tunnel). It's so much easier just to turn my brain off and not think about it.

I get this way when I think about my childhood home, which was torn down a couple of years ago. It's so scary to me to think that I can't go back. I'll never be able to go there again and see things the way they used to be. Although most of you would probably tell me that you can never really go back, even if the house still stands. But still I'd like a chance to walk through the yard, stand by the creek, look out the window of my old bedroom.

Maybe I'm so scared of losing the past because I have such a terrible memory. If things could live on in my brain, maybe I wouldn't be so scared of losing them in real life. But until science finds a way to tap into my mind's lost reservoirs I'll have to learn to deal with it. You'd think I'd write in a journal, but I guess my laziness outweighs even my fears.

So I was so proud of myself recently when the neighbors tore down the garage that separated their yard from mine and I didn't have a panic attack. I didn't mourn the pealing paint or the way our yard USED to look. I'm plowing head long into the aesthetically pleasing future, enjoying the way I can now see the light dance through the leaves of their walnut tree in the morning. It's all about the outlook, isn't it?

If only all change could always look so good.