Transitions

I take great pleasure in the alignment of small details. Shoes, neatly stacked by the door. A alphabetically organized accordion file. Inbox zero. A well managed refrigerator.

I have not always been this way. There are stories, fables, legends really, about the filth accumulated in my college dorm room. However, those days are long past, and as I blossomed into adulthood, as did my penchant for order. Like any good Myers Briggs J, I rejoice in finding things in their proper place. I revel in a To-Do list completed. I honor efficiency, the noblest of traits.

In order there is freedom. I mean this not in a pathological or diabolical way. I do not fear OCD tendencies nor do I demand unflinching order from others. I just mean to say that when my life is in order, so is my mental state. When all is where it should and as it should be, I am finally able to relax.

Unfortunately for me and my J brethren, life is anything but orderly. Which is likely why I find myself back here again, putting words on the page, trying to make order out of chaos.

Perhaps chaos is a strong word. My friend Rob (a Myers Briggs P) says I am in “transition” and “transitions” are, by their nature, uncomfortable. While I agree with both statements, I would like to take it one step further and say that “transition” just took a five bag pound of rice and dumped it all over my well managed refrigerator, alphabetically organized accordion file and neatly stacked shoes. “Transition” laughed all the while, then rolled around in a mud puddle and fell asleep in my spotless bathtub.

I cannot relax. What’s more, I cannot be efficient, as the mess before me is large and I cannot fathom where to start. And so I sit here and try to get words on a page in hope they will guide me forward.

To begin, maybe I will make a t-shirt. It will say DO NOT ASK WHERE I SEE MYSELF IN 5 YEARS. No one, NO ONE enjoys this question, least of all me. Do I have plans? No, I don’t, I’ll take it as it comes. Am I okay? Sure. I have way, WAY too many good things going for me not to be. How am I feeling? That’s a nice, non-committal question. I am sad. I miss things that were that are no longer. It hurts me deeply, to look back as to look forward. There are things that now will not come to pass that I think hurt more than the things that are no longer. I am not scared, but I am anxious. Remember I said before I have a lot going for me? Those things keep me from being scared, but the future is uncertain, and that calls for some trepidation. Here’s another question: what do I want? Want. That’s a loaded word. Let’s try another. What do I need? ::takes reflective pause::

I need order. Stability. But I also need freedom and a little wilderness and a few unexpected problems to solve. I need hugs. All of the hugs. I need to snuggle small animals against their will. Sometimes I need to talk out my feelings, which usually involves me saying the same thing 14 different ways but I still need you to listen and smile reassuringly and give me a hug when I’m finally talked out. You know what I need more of? Belly laughs. Also impromptu 10pm runs to the store for candy and beer and maybe that imported bag of chips that costs $7.

Okay, words on paper. I get it. If I start taking care of my needs, I may get what I want. And if I take care of my wants and needs, I might starting working through the mess transition has made in my life. Maybe, just maybe, I can be okay with finding rice grains in my refrigerator for a while. After all, sometimes it’s the small details that remind you of the transitions you’ve lived through and, of course, overcome.