I know it isn’t nice to use the word “hate” but you know what? I fucking hate change. Particularly when it is change for a stupid reason.
I’ve written before about how the number of ripples my brain can cope with is three. That might be three major events, three upsets, three issues, or in this case, three changes. I’m at three now and yesterday I woke up to discover my special pillow (affectionately referred to as pootoo) has a tear in it.
Just… just fuck this.
My head knows that change is something that a lot of people have trouble with. But when sameness is what helps you thrive, the ripples that change make feel akin to those whopping big waves at the beach that dump you to the bottom of the ocean, fill every nook and crevice with sand, then laugh at you as the stagger to your feel minus your swimmers.
Oh my GOD Scouty just made the most horrific smell. I must change rooms. Hang on.
Seriously how does such a delightful fur baby who gives endless love and just wants to play create such smells? How does this happen?
Actually it’s kind of what change makes me feel like. A growing awareness of impending doom, straight from the bowels of hell. It becomes overwhelming and there is nothing to do but either breathe it in until you are physically ill or evacuate.
I need sameness. Life doesn’t stay the same. And so I developed ways to deal with the ripples life throws just as a part of the human condition. But it’s not so easy this time. You see the way I developed those ways has changed. Since I met my therapist, I realised for the first time that I’m not completely useless. I learned what it was that made my head the way it is. I found ways to work with it instead of against it. I got through things and started to thrive. But I feel a bit like this:
Imagine you have a shitty car. This is quite easy for me because I used to own a Kia. You take your car off to get serviced. You’ve seen many mechanics in the past who have simply patched what’s wrong and sent you on your way. But now you’ve found a brilliant mechanic. You take your Kia in and it receives regular work. Things start to change. Windows go up and down. You don’t stall as much. The clutch doesn’t snap. You start driving further and further. You gain confidence with the car and start being pleased that your lemon is now more of an orange.
Then you find out that the mechanic is moving. The best you can hope for now are those patch up jobs. And as your car sits idling in the driveway of the mechanics, the exhaust starts to splutter. The wheels begin to tremble. As you back it out to return to a smaller radius of safe driving areas, the wheels fall off.
Sure, there are other mechanics. But when every other mechanic has only been able to do patch it jobs, you’re kind of left with nowhere to go. The car is in the driveway but you don’t want to drive it because you know it’s not going to be able to get the help it needs if something goes wrong. The best you can hope for now is a courtesy car while your car splutters along from crisis to crisis.
That brilliant mechanic? Not using their mechanic skills anymore, even though they are the absolute best.
The cars the mechanic helped? They either manage the change or splutter to silence.
I have no idea what’s going to happen. I met a new “mechanic” today and he spoke to me like I was a three year old. Stories of houses and shoes. I still got there though, and I made an appointment to go back.
Will the car make it? No idea.
Will my brilliant mechanic return? I fucking hope so.
There’s nothing worse than wasted skills. And there are a lot of people in Newcastle who need a good mechanic.
And now Scouty has followed me to the study and released another hellish odour.
Time to get my joggers on and head to the gym. While it’s still there. Because yay and hoorah. That’s changing too.
Some days you’re just not full of sunshine and light.
How do you manage with change? Any tips?