Just reach out, I’ll never be too far
A couple of years ago, I signed up for a month of yoga with my sister. It was actually great getting to do something together with her. Usually we are busy with kids or jobs or boyfriends. I’ve only gone to one yoga studio, so I don’t know if they are all the same, but at this one, the teacher always told a story to inspire us. I actually only remember one of them. It was about moving gracefully through a transition. In yoga, most people put all of their effort into the pose. The teacher said that we should put the same amount of effort into the transition as it was just as important as the pose.
I suck at yoga. I hate every minute of it. Ok, I think I look amazing in the warrior poses, but that’s it. However, I love the part where you just get to lie there at the end. This is why I go. My transitions are always ungainly. I’m just so relieved to get out of a pose that I’m not thinking of being graceful. What I want to do is cry out in happiness that I’m not stuck there anymore.
No one likes being in transition, yet we all are in some way or another. Just when we get things settled in one area of our life, another part is changing. And you might be saying to me right now, Nay. My life is boring, and I change nothing. But the world keeps turning, and you are affected by changes. Seasons, holidays, elections, disasters, births, deaths, jobs, friends, lovers, moves, unexpected bills, health, did I miss something?
Last January, I was living with my ex-boyfriend. I was really sick, and I was really sad. My son had gone to live with his dad full time in October. I was devastated. I was also working as a substitute teacher, which is its own kind of adventure. I lived with two dogs, his and my cat, in a two-story house in a town that I didn’t want to be in. It was a life of “What are we doing about dinner?” followed by, “What do you want to watch tonight?” We rarely had sex; I just didn’t want to. I wasn’t playing hockey because I didn’t feel good enough to, and I didn’t want to hurt the team by playing anyways. I signed up for a ballet class, since I danced as a teenager.
This January, I live alone with my son’s lesbian cat. She is much too into me to be a straight cat. I’m feeling much better now, and I’m pretty damn happy. My son has gone to live with his grandma. I am relieved. I work as a teacher, which is an adventure with a lot of prep work thrown in for good measure. The house I rent is an adorable older home in a quiet neighborhood. It is a life of “What do I want to make for dinner?” followed by, “What do I feel like writing about tonight?” I have sex occasionally. The guy I have started seeing is a full time dad. I’m playing a half season of hockey on a new team. I dance in the kitchen when the mood strikes me.
What you don’t see is all of the transitions that got me from there to here. The move. My son coming back. His steady decline in behavior. His drug use. Getting a new job. Meeting a new person. Finding a new team. Going from brown to blonde. Wait! How did that get in here? Well, everything else had changed, I needed to look in the mirror and see a different person.
Even with all of those changes, I still feel like I’m in transition. I just started writing again. This was directly in response to another transition. A parting of the ways with someone who I was very much into. At first it was just a way to think out loud and process what had happened to make some sense of it all. But it is quickly becoming something that I look forward to doing. Where it will lead, I have no idea. Which is the whole point. New things can be exciting, and they can be scary.
We are seeing that every day in the news. Some people are excited for the new presidency and some are scared by it. Like it or not, we are transitioning. The whole country. That’s a lot of people making a change all at one time. No wonder everyone is writing about it! So many people, so many different opinions, so many lives affected differently.
After I post on Medium, the best part for me is when people take the time to respond with their stories. I love that! It is like a little piece of me, merged with a little piece of them. All of a sudden, the story became more alive because it was shared by two people, instead of just me typing away in solitude. The human spirit craves connection, especially during times of transition. Knowing that we are not alone, can be very helpful.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is, let’s reach out. Write, read, respond. Taking the time to write your experience might help you to look at it differently. Which might lead to someone gaining needed insight into their own life when they read it. Then take it a step further and send a kind word to a stranger. It is always appreciated! I think that transitions might be a little easier if we all supported each other. I don’t promise to be graceful, but at least I know you have my back. And I will have yours.
