Things are changing. Myself, mostly. I can feel it. Even though those closest to me may not yet detect any sort of difference, at least I know it’s there. Kind of like when you lose five pounds or try a new shampoo. You’re waiting for someone to give you that look of admiration, to cock their head to one side and say, “There’s something new about you. Something different. You look…fantastic.”
It seems like the most obvious thing, to say my life is changing—given the fact that we are all constantly a work in progress. But this change is something that I’ve been actually working towards. Small things, like biting my tongue when I would really like to wail out some huge complaint. Important things, like not comparing myself, my marriage, or my current pant size to others (as much). Trivial things, like drinking tea instead of coffee, and resolving to paint my nails once a week.
The other day, I was going through my bookshelf and realizing just how many blank notebooks I have. I’m entirely too sentimental and tend to be a bit of a hoarder in some ways, and I’ve always found myself keeping all these blank, beautiful notebooks for some grand, important (yet undetermined) thing. Why? I’m not sure. I think that a part of me has always liked the idea of something “good enough” to come along, to inspire me enough, to be worthy enough. In any case, I realized how ridiculous that seems, so I selected three of my favorites—one large, two small—and started to fill them. One with my daily devotions. The second with quotations I discover throughout the week that catch my eye (which is something I always said I’d do, but never got around to). And the last one sits on the kitchen table, ready for something. I’m not sure what exactly.
(Some things never change.)
I don’t know why filling these notebooks even matters, but it feels like it’s something I’m doing just for me. Plus, it reminds me to stay in the moment.
My twenties have been filled with a lot of things. Living in a place far away from my sisters and parents, falling in love, marriage, various jobs, discovering new passions and letting go of old friendships, drinking a lot of wine, feeling helpless, feeling invincible, becoming a mother, losing myself, finding myself. It’s been this constant question of, “Wait, who am I? What am I doing with my life?” and the quiet realization, “Oh, okay. I see. It all makes sense now.”
I guess there are some things that just don’t make sense right now. There are people I can’t change, there are situations beyond my reach, there are moments I’ll never get back. So, instead of tying my heart up in knots, I’m working on me. Changing. Failing miserably most days, but still. It feels good to sometimes focus on the little things when the big things are so out of your control. When I realize I have the power to at least make some tiny, undetectable change in my life, that perhaps I’ll realize it’s okay I’m unable to fix the big things—the ones that aren’t up to me.