Change Happens: Acceptance, Courage, and the Wisdom to Grow

I’m writing this post after attending a tree-planting ceremony in my neighborhood. We’ve lived in a park in a historical neighborhood for 22 years. My heart filled with happiness to see new trees for a fruit orchard and the native dogwood trees restoring the spaces that resemble an empty green island more than a park.

Last year, due to a city project, they buried all the electrical wires. To accomplish this, many of the old trees were taken down and temporarily replaced with the dreaded orange cones of construction. During that time, there was only one narrow street where residents could come and go. Amazon and FedEx deliveries didn’t always arrive. That project lasted nine long months.

During that time, I mentally shook my fist at the officials who started this nonsense. Get off my lawn and leave my neighborhood alone! I dreamt of becoming the vigilante arborist, a granola Batgirl or Catwoman, donning a green cape, mask, and trusty shovel, scheming to find and replant those lost trees, even in the middle of the night if necessary.

I needn’t have worried. There’s an arborist on the city project that planned to restore the neighborhood. Many of the removed trees were dead, diseased, or one windstorm away from falling on someone’s home. There was a plan in place and I should’ve trusted the process. Until today, I resisted those changes, not looking at the overall picture.

Changes Happen

What I didn’t like about this experience, besides the inconvenience and the lack of curb appeal, is that the landscape of the neighborhood changed. It looks different now than it did when we moved here in June 2000. That was over twenty years ago. Of course, the landscape’s changed and so have I. Whether I like it or not, change happens.

So many aspects of life, besides the neighborhood, changed this year. I chose some changes, like leaving public librarianship and a lengthy commute to pursue full-time writing. Others, like a year-long progressive illness, gallbladder removal surgery, and post-op complications, were unexpected. I’m still figuring out how to navigate change, and to do so, I reference a saying used often in recovery circles: “Accept the things you cannot change, courage to change the things you can, and wisdom to know the difference.” When these changes happen, acceptance, courage, and wisdom are the branches that I latch onto and sometimes hold onto for dear life.

Accepting Changes

This year, inspired by a friend, I started a new tradition of finding a word of the year. The word serves as an overall theme. I chose acceptance as my inaugural word. As an example, I must accept the fact that although it’s May and the weather’s amazing, I can’t garden or mow, which I love, until I’m cleared by the surgeon. If I don’t accept this change, I’ll most likely injure myself and recovery time would be much longer than mid-June. So, I’m keeping idle hands busy by writing more so I pine less for what I can’t do right now.

While tugging, dragging, and replanting my professional roots to new spaces, I started accepting the lifestyle changes from a full-time, salaried library manager to teaching college courses and freelance writing. Dining out is now a rarity and the slow cooker’s my new BFF. I cut my own tresses and frequent the local beauty college for deeply discounted mani/pedis. Once I accepted my new reality and made these changes, I’m able to stay afloat and continue to work on growing my biz.

Courage to Change the Things I Can

So many aspects have been out of control, so having the courage to change something on purpose, especially job-related, was difficult. I made the change at 50 and it’s scary to start over at this stage. It’s also exciting. I had over twenty years of library experience; I technically managed the tasks, but I was tired of the whiplash from working under varied leadership styles. I was both exhausted and miserable and it showed.

To restore my declining mental and physical health, I changed course, stepped off the main path, and detoured into unknown territory. It’s rocky and I’ve fallen a few times but am learning from the missteps. It’s okay to fall and I don’t know where this trail will take me. I’m tightly holding the cracked compass but looked up through the trees and rediscovered a hope and lightness lost back on the mainland years ago.

Wisdom to Know the Difference

Part of navigating change is knowing which parts of life to accept and which ones to change. It’s hard to let go if it’s familiar and safe, and especially if I’m right about something. Letting go of what I can’t control, fix, or manage opens time, space, and energy to focus on the good stuff like writing, teaching, spending time with family and friends, gardening, and cat herding.

I also read somewhere that if you’re excited and scared, it’s a sign to do the thing! So, I’m pursuing this dream, looking forward to sampling the fruits from the newly planted trees in the boulevard and the proverbial fruits from growing this biz. I encourage you to plant your dreams and watch them grow.