All My Gettings

I'm not the kind of person who generally, as a rule, enjoys change. Usually, even something minor like my parents junking the car that I drove all through college or painting the walls of my childhood kitchen bright blue is enough to make me more than a touch despondent. These sorts of things bother me, the uneasiness and lack of consistency. If things change, it means they're not stable and, if these trivial things change so easily, what about the bigger things? I mean, it's ridiculous, obviously, to compare a hunk of metal or a design choice to anything major. I realize that, but still, there's a worry that sets up shop at the back of my head every time even a minor difference appears.

Which is why I'm even more disoriented by the last couple of months. I have undergone a dizzying number of alterations over that time period. Even the most dramatic-appearing ones (that of quitting my job or of going back to school) are just a part of what appears to be some sort of drastic life overhaul. Some things, naturally, aren't my choosing (not that I'm opposed to them, but more I didn't have the only say in the matters, if you will). But it's not the nature or even the number of changes that makes me feel uneasy this time. Rather, I'm out of sorts precisely because I'm not out of sorts. Quite the contrary: I'm remarkably happy.

I don't do content well. I do discontent and malcontent splendidly. I'm also pretty adept at unsatisfied and unfulfilled. And I can suck it up or grit my teeth with the best of them. But, to crib Michael Cunningham, against all odds and expectations life has burst open and given me pretty much everything. I should probably just, at least for this moment, allow myself to enjoy what's going on. To not fret about how it'll all fall apart, or worry about what will happen when suddenly a different set of changes sends me spiraling in a direction I never intended or even want.

I can't do that, though. I haven't the practice. And it disrupts my whole personal narrative. But, for the moment, I'm going to try. Really hard. And just accept that things can, in fact, work out for me beautifully.