The Power of Change

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I used to look at change and give it the stink eye.  I would scrutinize it like the shady dude at the local convenience store.  To me, change meant that I was not consistent, dependable or predictable.   Change had the power to make me feel out of control of my life…

In childhood and my teen years, change was a constant our lives.  But it was often rash, highly volatile and brewing with backlash.  We moved a lot.  Sometimes my mom and I would flee in the middle of the night and stay with a friend or in a motel.  When I was 16 and ran away from home, I lived with 3 different friends and their families within the same year.  I also lived in a flop house for a few days.  I slept on couches.

Even once I “got my feet under me” I still moved from apartment to apartment, room mate to room mate.  My go-to habit was that when things went sideways, I needed to pack up and leave shop.    To top it off, there was always this underlying feeling of dysfunction.  That I couldn’t make something… anything stick.

When my husband and I had our first baby and moved in together, that’s when I finally felt like I was on track.  Don’t get me wrong,  I certainly learned how to stuff it all down in other contexts.  But logistically speaking, I was locked in.  Mortgage, marriage and motherhood-wise.

I understand now that what I craved most was stability.

And that change and stability do not need to be polar opposites.

Fast forward to today with the interest of making my point of this blog post impactful and positive, I have since learned that change doesn’t need to be that sticky, awful feeling.  Change can be uplifting, empowering and wildly successful.  Even when it doesn’t look or feel that way once the shift starts to happen.

I watched a Ted Talk the other day called “Change your brain and resilience” by Lehan Stemmet (Check it out, I highly recommend it).  And I started to think about our power of choosing change in a conscious manner.  Change doesn’t need to be spontaneous and off the wall to be significant.  It can be solidified in an intention and little by little, making choices to support that change.

Then I began to imagine the alternative.  Imagine for a moment that change resembled a 5 year non redeemable GIC with an interest rate of 1.2%.  That for the next 5 years, you needed to remain the same person.  Not try anything new, nil growth and nada expansion.  Just be.  In 5 years, you can choose any changes from the provided list or maybe just let that sucker auto-renew for another 5 years.  When I thought of it that way, I almost had a panic attack!  AND I gained a whole new appreciation for the opportunity to create something new.  Change can happen anytime, anywhere.  I don’t have to wait for my renewal notice, for permission or approval and I certainly do not need to be fearful of it.

This year has marked my year of deliberate and conscious change.  Moving forward with an open heart and with an intention to change the inner conversation.

Deep Bow,

Chantelle

 

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Midlife and a ton of bricks

Welcome friends. This blog is about 2 years in the making. But it is happening, tonight. I declared to my accountability friend that I was giving myself 18 hours to get this post visible to the public eye. No more dawdling. I’d rather pound back some Starbucks Pike while defrosting my freezer, but here we are.

I felt a tremendous amount of pressure to decide what this first post should be about…and don’t even get me started on the title. I’m sure none of y’all care that much. But as someone who is insanely deliberate with my actions, or inactions for that matter, I am really throwing caution in to the wind.

I will start with a little introduction. Hi *insert wavey hand emoji* I am a momma from Canada. I am married and have 4 kids, and a farm (can’t take much credit for the whole farm thing) if it was up to me, I would just grow succulents and morning glories.

Up until 2-3 years ago that would have been my intro. Plain and simple. But then midlife hit (or what I attribute to be midlife). At first it felt like a tap on the shoulder. Then a whap across the head with a flip flop (the foamy kind, not like a Birkenstock…that came later) and then it was like a ton of bricks. Something that took me out and destroyed everything that I thought was true and certain and left me for dead. And I have been digging myself out every since.

Much has happened since that shit ton…(that is a standardized unit of measurement, I hear)…hit home. I have embarked on a solo trip to Peru, hiked the West Coast Trail and numerous other trails. Attended Yoga Teacher Training, and taken part in psilocybin and sweat lodge ceremonies, shamanic healings, life coaching sessions and have written half of a memoir. I have found the courage to set down my heavily armoured baggage of childhood trauma that I have been packing around with me my whole life, trusting that I no longer need it. Depression and I are on speaking terms strictly based on a one-day-at-a-time arrangement. The one thing that I am still resisting is for others to hear my voice. Trusting that I have something of value and importance to share and say. And so it begins…

Deep Bow in Gratitude,