Here we are again, stating the obvoius that change is inevitable. It is a fact still that the degree of change and how it will impact you is unpredictable. It can be intimidating, and the variables seem out of your grasp, especially when you stand at the brink of it. It is also exciting, fresh and fun. The lack of control over the outcomes and emotions that accompany change can become refreshing, to say the least. Here I am, yet again, in a new home after 5 years in what could have been a permanent one. How do I feel? Maybe too early to tell, but let's find out how a tiny new kitchen can create space for more!
About 3 months ago, I found myself in a new kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee while the pots on the stove simmered away. This time, with a tale trailing the moment, of how we moved out of the old one, pans including, to get here. As I stood by the window on the side, taking in the sea breeze, I wondered if life always had this in store for me. Was this my doing, to pack and leave familiar territory into a brand new kitchen? From support systems of groceries and time on my hands, to throwing myself into this life with the only constant of my husband by my side. Everything was different. Everything was new. Everything also seemed possible that day. It could go any way from here, but it would go! The years ahead could be filled with promises of the life I've spent my days preceding the move, dreaming of. The days ahead could be the first steps towards setting that right, just like I'd imagined it to be. Where and how do we start to make the most of it, was the only question on my mind. Onwards and upwards, no turning back. Strong and excited, hopefull and bright.
Was everything as seamless as it appeared, though? And that's when I had to ask myself some tough questions.
Week one was fun indeed, with turing the empty spaces into corners of cozy comfort. Mulitple trips to the store to create a place we could call home some day soon. Looking back now, the endeavour was super successful, as today I have a nook to run home to. A perfect amalgamation of design elements to make my soul feel warm. A happy space, a proud place and the result of our efforts to make it just that.
Then came week two. Hours at work I was not used to, an emotional drain of the energy reserves which were threating to run low. I knew it would pass, that the change would take its toll and leave me stronger. As done in the past, the fire and the furnace leading to polished edges.
Week three, four and five, were whirlwinds of activity, all of it seems lost on me now. In fact, I do wonder what happened those days, accompanied with the looming question of 'has the storm passed or am I still in the midst of it?' I can't help but believe that the temporary calm is only just that, and the next big one is right around the corner.
Everything that followed were what was around the corner indeed, with one big challenge after the next. Over extending myself, while rebelling to carve in some weekend bliss. Trying to live the life I came here for, but with the nagging voice that said I'm failing. It started to feel 'a little too much', atleast during some phases of time. While I promised myself that the next week would get better, the nagging presence gears up to tell me these promises will fall short.
Having said this, there is also an optimist in me, who raises her head when challenged. She relentlessly searches for the sliver among the thunder clouds, knowing that it surely exisits. When push comes to a shove, she also brings out the trusted pen and paper, to make those lists, the gratitudes and the calming prompts which more often than not meets with success. With such an attitiude in me I stand now, in the new kitchen with its splattered tiles and platform spaces that seem incapable of appearing clean!
I ask myself to stop. To take a minute to deep dive and come out before I drown. This felt good. To pause, to keep everything else on the back burner, while the fire cooked what needed cooking at the moment. I analysed what was working for me and what wasn't. I listed down everything I had acheived since I got here, and more so the process of getting here. That by itself was a long list, making me feel much like a survivor. I realised that all is not as doomed as it seems, that there is certainly more awesome than bad, more silver and golden than dull metal. All I needed was to pause and recoup, before the next gust of wind extinguished the flame that was struggling to stay fierce. Also to come to terms with what reality really is, without the theatrics of a life of struggle. I came to some conlcusions such as the missing factor was maybe fixed timings and routine, a problem that can be fixed with some effort towards it. Secondly, the expectation vs getting there, the gap of which was creating discomfort. Thirdly and perhaps most important, was the realisation that this was all indeed such a tremendous change, that it was perfectly human to feel this way!
I would take small steps, I promise myself. This time, with no nagging voices to tell me I wouldn't. My conviction was strong, and my plans to tackle the stress were on point with what my body and mind needed. I would take the steps, I would commit to the deed. I will no longer complain without cause, or pull myself into a hole I give myself permission to dig. As the rays shown through brighter, I noticed the cup I was drinking from. Nothing about it had changed from three months ago, when I sipped from it in a different kitchen. The same colours of blue and brown, glazed ceramic shaped perfectly for the hands to hold. The coffee it held was debatably different, new brands of beans and milk. It was the turn of the philosopher in me to now rear her head. Her moment had come. The same me, holidng different emotions in a new environment. Nothing about the vessel that held the changes had differed. Only what was inside and the place it was now in. Come to think of it, the change in location was precisely what caused the change of flavour inside the cup. That could logically lead to only a simple and straightforward conlusion - I feel different only because of the changes around me, which are bound to happen. I am unchanged, the places aren't. Hence what is in me will naturally change. In this new kitchen, I could trust my same old cup, a product of clay and fire, to hold my coffee safe. Why then shouldn't I trust the same 'me' to survive well this new life.
What a gesture of kindness to the self it would be, to accept this fact with grace. With that, I would break down unrealistic expectations of what ought to be, erase self-imposed timelines that are quite impossible to beat, and trust myself as I should. With this resolve, and much love for the new home we've created, I look forward to the days ahead. Same cup, new place. Same me, a new city!