When It's Time to Change, Then It's Time to Change

I've always heard that when you go through a loss, such as the death of a spouse or other family member, it's a good idea to avoid making major decisions for quite some time, as long as a year or so. And for major decisions, I think that's wise. I'm not about to sell my house, or get a full-time job, or move to a different state, or buy a Ferrari, or start home-schooling my kids. But small changes can be therapeutic. They can help ease the transition from then to now. 

Which is why I've decided to make a few changes. Minor changes, to be sure; things like putting the inflatable Halloween tree in front of the house instead of in the back yard. 

I changed a number of our fall decorations in a small way: I put one of our lighted foam jack-o-lanterns on the porch instead of in the office window. I put the stuffed witch and skeleton that usually sit on the piano on either side of the antique Singer sewing machine instead (our cats often supervise family dinners from that location, so they are not fond of this change). I hung the scarecrow wreath in the kitchen instead of on the basement door. 

I got rid of some of our paid assistants, like our housecleaners and our lawn care crew. I am capable of cleaning the house and mowing the lawn with some help from the kids. Neither result is quite up to the same standard as when the professionals were in charge, but the work gets done. And if there are fingerprints on the refrigerator door, or the occasional dust kitty in a corner that the Roomba doesn't reach, or trails of lawn clippings across the yard, I'm okay with that. It's a change I can live with. 

I've changed my morning routine. I used to wake up around the same time as the kids and enjoy a cup of coffee in bed, not getting up until they were off to school. But I find I enjoy the peace and quiet of early morning as a preparation for the day, so now I get up before or right around sunrise and enjoy my coffee and morning crosswords as the sun is rising, so by the time the kids get on the bus I'm ready to start my day. 

I also decided to stop coloring my hair. I had dyed it red for a community theatre production I was in shortly before I met my husband (my online tagline was "Maryann disguised as Ginger" which tickled him to no end), and he was quite fond of the red (as was I), so I kept it up. But these days, dying my hair costs money and time that I'd rather spend elsewhere, and I'm curious as to how much gray is under there after nearly 20 years of Miss Clairol. So my last dye job was a couple of months ago, and I intend to shorten my cut periodically as my grey roots get longer. 

The awkwardness of the transition seems appropriate for the awkwardness of my current life transition. 

See? Awkward.

After all, the earlier state of both my life and my hair was something healthy that I liked and wanted to stick with, and the final state of both my life and my hair will be something healthy that I will like and want to stick with. But the middle ground, that awkward stage of "neither fish nor fowl" will likely be, well, awkward. It has been - and will continue to be - ugly, at times. It will look to others like I don't know what I'm doing (they're not wrong), or that I'm making terrible choices, or that I'm not taking care of myself they way they think I should. But I have a goal in mind, and I have a plan of how to get there. It's not a smooth road. I'll probably stumble and get lost along the way. There's a good chance I'll wish I had made different choices now and then. But I'll see it through. I'll endure the awkwardness for the sake of the final result. And if I get to that end result, and decide eventually that I didn't make the right choice? Well, the nice thing about both life and hair is that you can always change your mind. You may not be able to undo what was done, but you can always move forward. You just have to continue growing.