There’s something about the fall that ushers in transformation. Autumn welcomes the subtle transition of early daybreak and heated nights to sweltering days and brisk evenings that flow into late nights.
Fresh dates transitioning from crisp and crunchy to soft and tender . . . plump pomegranate arils with a crunchy burst of tart refreshment . . . sweet persimmons from crunchy to soft, sweet or bitter . . . and change.
This is fall for me. I'm in transition from who I was and this is a current shift I'm unprepared for. I see it though. I can see who I am and how far that is from who I was.
Transformation can be amazing, but I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Transformation starts with a transition out of your comfort zone. It's an all at once thing right now and a couple of nights ago a few tears quietly fell from my cheeks before I realized I was crying. At that moment I decided it was okay to cry. Then I realized I could go to sleep and start over when I woke up. Once I realized I was crying, I was too tired to accept the moment.
I’m still waking up before the sun, the ache of longing is a physical experience as I remind myself that change is good, and it’s okay to say goodbye for that change. Cold turkey is what they call it, right? You're cut off, cold turkey. It's not as good as it was right out the oven. It's dry. It's harder and you don't really want it, but it might be good with the right additions. You make it into a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and mayo and you can hide what it is. If you have just a little, its Tryptophan drug will put you out. You will be unable to move on if you let just a little seep back in. But it could be good again, right?
For me, there's the longing of his embrace. I loved the way he held me and I felt like he was holding me together and up and keeping me safe. There's the familiarity of our routines. There's coming home to see him fill the spaces that are now so empty. But this is the right thing. It was time for us to move on. What flows will not be stopped. What isn't a full and excited yes, is a no. What is meant for me will remain, and life will deliver him where he belongs. The transition hurts, but the transformation will one day be worth it. At the end of the day, that time hasn't come, but I can hope it'll arrive tomorrow. Or the tomorrow a few days from now.
I remind myself that I’m still here. I've never left myself. I've crowned many kings in my life but that power was always in my hands to give and take. But the transfer back comes with questions of closure and making sense of how it feels to start focusing my love and energies back on myself. It's foreign. It's unfamiliar and uncomfortable. It's where I am at and where I need to be.
My job treats me like they love me. My finance team is four men, and me. I was at a team lunch, and listening to the conversations flow around me, volleying back and forth before me. I remember thinking how lucky I was to be able to learn so much from such an intelligent team. Weeks later, I would marvel at the fact that they listened to what I said, and placed value in my opinions that I didn't know to expect. They taught me so much that I get to unlearn from other relationships in my life. And there is a transition here too. There is a dawn breaking in my career and a place at the table where I'm not jumping up to chase kids and serve seconds before I can eat my first bite.
Tuesday's and Wednesday's hectic commute was punctuated by call after call after call. Incidents pushed me just enough. I’m in a space where I no longer play games. I can watch with mild fascination as you try to push my buttons, and get me to play. I will allow you to pursue your game until I’m bored. Did I mention I'm an autism mom? Push too hard in the direction of my kids and boredom becomes directed anger. At that point, I will step in and handle the situation. I’ll remember I'm living my life and don't play when it comes to my kids, and your amusement or dominance becomes a threat I will mitigate. Throw the ball my way, and I will pop it. I'll watch your tears with detached fascination because I really care less than you might want me to. I will do my job until I can walk away, and I won’t need to look back because it’s handled and I know how to let go because I'm thorough the first time.
As the weight of the world descended on my shoulders and my smile was stolen by stress, I started sending out invitations to my pity party. It took a while, but I reminded myself that no one shows up to these and the presents suck. Pity parties are a token of the past and I don't live there. The food spoils quickly and I prefer a hot meal, with fresh picked produce. I drove to the ocean to watch the sun rise over the land, and kiss the waves cresting below me. I watched surfers dotting the waves, waiting for the perfect one to carry them. I stood tall and asked aloud, “who are you?”
I’m a mom.
To my sons, I’m a brave, courageous, heart-led leader. I face the terrifying uncertainties of being a single mom. Will I have enough. Am I giving too little structure? Am I giving too much? Is this the man that I want to lead along side me? I do what's right, even if it hurts and the tears won't stop. Leading from the heart means I do what is best for those I love, and try my best to live selflessly. I fail sometimes but every day is a new opportunity.
Through the heritage of my blood line, I am the daughter of leaders and slaves alike. My blood carries generations of strength and power. My heart has known pain, and joy and my arms have held and released loves greater than I could ever express.
I decided in that moment that the quickest way out of my pity party was to ask, “what’s your contribution?”
What can I offer the world outside of myself? What can I do for others to be in service? What can I do to support someone else? Those answers have dotted my day, filling my empty cup and helping me through this transformation.
I have been intentional with the space I make for healing. I have made a meal become meditation. I took each bite to appreciate the flavors and textures. I took a moment to smell the aroma and feel the air around me. Was it cool? Was the room loud? Hyper focus allows me to focus so intently that all else melts away into nothingness and peace.
Transformation means change and change can often hurt. Right now my glow has dulled. I'm aware of the sorrow I feel, but I am accepting that this is the moment I need to be in. I have no idea what things will look like when I’m done, but I know it will be good. There are no other options.