After eleven months of marriage I feel like I am finally starting to pull my life together, and figure out this post-college, married woman life.
I cast about for a few months after I finished classes in December, and took a few months where I did a whole lot of nothing (besides working, that is). Then I jumped into a melodrama which ate up my evenings, and weekends and felt like I was in college again (sans the homework and tests, hallelujah!).
Now that the melodrama is o’er, I have been getting into the routine that I have dreamed about for the past years. Up at 6, run or yoga (depending on the day), blog, drink coffee, do household duties, hang laundry on my clothes drying rack, make lunch and/or supper, go to work. Slowly, but surely, I am piecing my new life together. I have been crossing off things of my to-do list and many of the big ticket items (change my name, find insurance, get car insurance, register my new name with the post office) remain nothing but distant, uncomfortable memories.
In essence, I am settling into this life.
Which is why I wish this next year wasn’t going to contain so much change.
I have always warred against new seasons of life.
I struggled for a few years to find the right college, that is, a college that didn’t make me bolt like a rabbit after the first few days. Finally, I discovered that it wasn’t the college I was attending, but it was myself that made me want to bolt. And for years into college (until the last year or two) I wanted to run away at the beginning of every semester. Those first few weeks of the semester always made me feel like I had one foot in college, and another foot just itching to run away. I had to learn this about myself, and firmly nail my shoes to the ground, and tell myself over and over that the feeling would pass, and it always did.
There have been very few major transitions in my life that haven’t made me want to jump on the nearest plane.
These days, for the most part, I don’t feel like bolting from things anymore, but I do feel a growing amount of unease about all the uncontrollable changes in the next year. Hubs will be graduating, we will be applying to grad schools for him, he will get into a grad school somewhere, we will move, I will leave my job, we may start paying student loans. I feel as if we just found a mechanic for our car, a doctor for our ills, and a comfortable network of friends. We have slowly gotten settled this past year, and I love that feeling.
As I was talking through all these changes with a friend, she told me to just “roll with the punches”. And I haven’t gotten that term out of my head.
I have spent the past few years learning how to nail my shoes to the ground, and now I need to learn how to pull up those nails, and start rolling? I tend to have a bit of a white knuckled approach to life, in general, and neither nailed down shoes nor white knuckled hands are conducive with rolling.
The only hope for me is that I married the king of rolling with the punches. I always imagined I would marry a man exactly like me (ha!) but I am forever grateful I didn’t, because if I had married a male version of myself we would be a couple of stressed out, worried, fretful people about now. Instead, a married a man who lives beautifully in the present. I get myself wound up so tight, and he helps me to take life a little less seriously.
Faith is not born out of control, but out of being confident in what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. To me, that sounds an awful lot like worrying less and rolling more.