Transitions are hard. Transitions challenge us. Transitions take time. Transitions can be exciting but are usually
just plain scary. Ok let’s be honest,
transitions kind of suck. I’m at the
stage in my life where there are a lot of transitions. I’m constantly moving, learning, evolving,
shifting, growing. . . There are a
thousand places I would love to be, a thousand things I would love to be doing,
and a thousand people I love and would love to be with. The only way to make it from one of these things
to another is through transition, but I hate transition. Just ask my
family. Whenever I undergo big life
changes the transition monster comes out. I turn into this mean, preoccupied,
selfish, scared so I’m going to take it out on anyone who will listen kind of
person. The same thing happened when I
left Immokalee less than two months ago.
I’ve been through transition so many times you would think that I would
have the foresight to know that everything works out in the end. In fact, in looking back it is those times of
transition that have really helped to form who I am, but every time I take it
hard. I cried when I left
Immokalee. I sat in my new apartment in Cincinnati and wished
over and over again that I was back in the house on New Market Rd. eating a home cooked meal
with my housemates/family and laughing about our day. I was so focused on what had been that I
couldn’t focus on what was coming.
If you had asked me how I felt
before I left Immokalee you would have gotten various answers based on the
day. One day I might have said that I
was completely ready to move on. Another
day I would have told you that I wasn’t ready but I knew there was something
else to move on to. Another day I would
have said I was not ready to leave at all and that I couldn’t imagine being
anywhere else. I was a train wreck of
emotions with no triage team to help me sort it out. A journal entry of mine from mid-June pretty
much sums up my sentiments about change:
I’m always moving about. It’s
almost like I crave that sense of change.
The excitement of the unknown—not knowing exactly what is next—the fear
of the unknown—not ever being entirely sure of anything. I love change. I hate change. I crave transition. I avoid transition. I am in a state of translation. Translating myself. Figuring myself out. I embrace the title of nomad that my friends
have so lovingly bestowed upon me.
So how about transitioning from
volunteer life to a paying job complete with bills and living on my own? I’d say I’m doing pretty well these
days. I’m busy and life is crazy hectic
but I do believe I have made it past the official transition phase and my
transition monster has been successfully tucked away into his cave until at
least my next big change. In fact, I
wrote this just a few weeks ago.
I was listening to music in my car today on my way to and from
work. I just can’t help but smile when
certain songs come on. I wasn’t even
frustrated when I had to drive through the parking garage. Then it was storming on my drive home. Again, I didn’t mind. I was just smiling—turning the radio up so
loud that the music pulsed out of the speakers and flowed into my soul and back
out to my fingers and toes—and singing, always singing. I was at a stop sign. I saw people waiting for the bus. I saw people running across the street in the
rain, and I fell in love with Cincinnati. Then I had to run through the rain to get to
the post office and I fell in love again.
I don’t know if I’ll be here long term.
I don’t think I will. And I don’t
know if I’ll be a sports PT long term. I
don’t think I will. But today I had the
calming sense that this was a good place for me right now.
So thanks to the rain and some
really great people I have met here, I have found a place for myself here in Cincinnati—even if it is
just for awhile. I will continue to
transition long after my time as a “volunteer” but I will never lose all that I
gained over the past year. My time as
una voluntaria is one transition I’m glad I stuck around for.
Peace Out
Love,
Babs
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| They sell these bumper stickers in the city. I'm not sure if I'm ready to plaster one to the back of my jeep but maybe one day. |
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| Until then I always have this option. |
