How Change Became My Friend
Change. People are often uncomfortable with it, yet it is one of the most beautiful nouns. To become different, to alter or to modify. A life without change - does that exist?
It doesn’t.
Even if change makes our lives better, less busy, easier, and more peaceful, we resist it due to fear. So, why do we put off change until we can no longer?
My metamorphosis since becoming a parent was silent, sneaky, and so sly. So much so it made me ill. I never felt like there was enough time to be and do all the things I needed to let alone wanted to. Pressure was building up as responsibilities grew at home. I felt I had to be everywhere for my kids. I had to balance my roles as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and manage my career in management. I maintained a positive attitude and wouldn’t let myself fall into the conviction that I was a victim... ever. I was conditioned to believe success equated to sacrifice. So, I kept going and going until one day I couldn’t.
I suffered my first stroke at the age of 33. An extremely young and unusual age, so they said. The doctors couldn’t give me a definitive diagnosis. I was an anomaly in the Western world of medicine, and it was highly frustrating! I can’t tell you how many times I was told what “IT” could be. Enduring multiple tests over a year and a half, “IT” was still there. I experienced another stroke, and still no certainty, although a conversation suggested the next stroke could land me in a wheelchair. Many thoughts raced through my mind. What if I became paralyzed with my next stroke? How did this happen? What would happen to my family if I were to become immobile? Could I prevent this? Lost, confused, and unsure how to process any of this without any confidence from any of the three specialists I met with.
The fearful possibilities of what may happen were real. I knew what could be on the other side of my stroke, but without any specific diagnosis, I felt unsupported and alone.
I began asking friends and acquaintances for referrals. I didn’t care who it was, where I had to go or where they graduated from. I was on a hunt to understand what was happening. Fortunately for me, I’ve always been a pretty open-minded, jump in with two feet kind of person. So I jumped and I trusted.
Simultaneously, I began to read, participated in workshops and programs, diligently practiced what I was learning, and even started teaching. As I became more mindful of my body I recognized the patterns that triggered me to go into a negative state. I became aware of how much I could actually take on. I began taking vitamins (and, honestly, I struggle with this part of my daily routine). I began meditating to shrink my enlarged pituitary gland (aka the possible tumour). I adopted new behaviours and habits to delay, heal, or defer any negative responses from my body.
It wasn’t easy. My logical mind (for over twenty years I was in I.T. and operational processes) was being challenged, but my heart, somehow, innately believed. It was in the believing that drew me to more and more and more. With every new conversation, new course, new book, new practices, new perspectives, change was inevitable. It was essential to my future and the future of my family. Change allowed me to reconnect with what I had envisioned for my life; the process of unlearning was also a form of learning.
It made me ask myself, why did it take a crisis in my health to be willing to make changes? Why does it take a crisis for anyone to practice change?
Today, I can say, the work was hard (it is still work), but the reward is greater than I can even begin to describe. I haven’t had a stroke or any of the weird symptoms that came with it, in 10 years. Change became my friend. For that, I am so grateful.
Have you experienced a revelation of change in your life? Do you want to invite change into your life but don’t know where to start? Join the conversation below or email my personally --