New Year, New Us

I was once a little girl, just like everyone was once a child, growing up wondering why change had to happen and more importantly, why it was so hard. My family and I moved around a lot, and I believe I stopped the counter at fourteen times by the time I graduated highschool. That means I was in a new school almost every single year and having to hit the reset button on everything I could even remotely grow close to. My friends were few since I was shy and didn't feel the need to immediately befriend anyone considering how quickly we'd leave again. I counted on the things that would never leave me, the small comforts that were always familiar and brought me back to my own safe haven.

I had my special toys in my special bins, and my stacks upon stacks of books in a collection that continued to grow as I got older, "portals" into my other worlds. My small trinkets from vacation spots, zoos, or the occasional tour I'd get dragged on were lined up on window sills and sitting atop my dresser. At times, even my favorite pillow or a particularly comfy sweater was something I'd hold close despite outgrowing it. My 'things' were my home.

Now, it certainly doesn't mean I had a terrible childhood because I still made friends - eventually - each school year and I got to leave the house on family fun events often, but it was never the same as diving into a new book or continuing a craft project at home, by myself. I have rather fond memories of my childhood. What it means, though, is that I grew to expect change, to go with the flow of things, and understand that too much attachment to a place or a person might be a heartbreaking problem later. I thought I'd save myself the trouble by graduating, going to college, going about my career, and waiting until I'd made a personal choice to find wherever home would be and settle before I'd consider dating anyone. I thought I was the most independent, confident, and self-made individual that could take on the world and rely on very little to make it. That all took a turn when I met the man I would later and forevermore call my husband.

This isn't a romance story, though I do intend it to be heartfelt, so I'll keep it simple and say that I never in a million years expected to choose so quickly and suddenly, the person that I would spend the rest of my life with. We were good acquaintances one day, flirting friends the next, and finally, the day came where - once again - my mother was ready to move once more and I made the decision to stay. Maybe it was the fact that I was finally eighteen and I simply could. Or perhaps it was the very strong fact that I was afraid of leaving something that felt so good and so right that I might never, ever find it again. I'm glad it was sudden because otherwise I would have overthought the matter and I would have walked away from everything I now cherish.

We didn't have it easy, but we cared deeply for each other, and whether or not it was love at the start that compelled us to build our relationship, it became far more obvious that it was that and more that drove us forward. Life was great with each other, but our finances were terrible. We continued to make slightly better decisions, then worse ones, supporting each other, arguing with each other - somehow most of our arguments are always about either money or televisions - and eventually made such big decisions that they had HUGE consequences. Lessons were learned, and we grew closer through the struggle, then more honest with one another when it was obvious it was all or nothing. The respect we hold towards one another in our achievements is likely only topped by the love we actually have for one another. Now that this has been said, my real point is that I found a reason to be dependant on someone enough to take me back to that moment when I didn't want things to change again. When I wanted an unchanging home in this whirlwind that is an everchanging season of life.

In this life we have built, we were striving to get into our first true home purchase. With two kids, two dogs, a bunch of stuff we finally were able to keep and not get rid of, we still had goals and the biggest one was owning our own house. We found a house, and we're closing on the house next week. And through all this excitement and talk about how we're going to design our living room, the paint colors that will go up on the wall, the shelving in the kitchen, I kept wondering why my mind wandered. I felt, and truthfully still feel, scatter-brained. I also feel strewn into every direction, spread thin, like nothing I am doing is going anywhere. Yet, each time I stop to wonder what is wrong, I realize that it is that creeping monster of change just waiting for me once again.

Why is it always so hard? When everything is going well and I am finally doing so much more of what I've always wanted to do for myself and my family? Why is the reality of change making me feel this apprehension?

I finally thought hard about it and came to the realization that I am genuinely afraid to lose all that feels right about being 'home' even though home is where my family is. Home truly is where we make it, and we make a very good home together, I must say. I'm afraid to hit the reset button again, but this time, it'll be a better, bigger home, and possibly the one we'll be in the longest. This time, I have to be brave and override that obnoxious anxiety of fear and the dislike of change. This time I have to truly embrace the new year, this change, what could very well be the best chapter of change in my life. This time, I am definitely not alone and I really do believe it'll be for the better considering how united we are in our path.

Life is strange, and nothing can be taken for granted. This change will bring about an opportunity for greatness, self-fulfillment, and new achievements. This year will be a new "us", with more focus on each other as a family, and the freedom of being more mindful than we ever have before about all the abundance that is given when we simply accept change.