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I was given a clock for Christmas, a clock framed by pictures of my grandchildren. I hung it on the wall, marvelling at how quickly life can change. I, who was a young woman not two minutes ago, or so it seems, have grandchildren.
My eldest granddaughter had made me a card too and written it herself…with a little help from her father. I had to smile at the design the pair of them had chosen, a single red candle with holly leaves and berries… a design I had made from sugarpaste, every year, to decorate the family Christmas cake when the boys were young. Christmas is a time for tradition and memory. My granddaughter has recently changed from being an only child to being a big sister. She is trying to work out relationships and needed to check if her Daddy had been in grandma’s tummy, once upon a time. Her father raised his eyebrows and grinned… we shared a glance that was not only between mother and son but between two adults who are parents and who understand the odd things small children can say. In one sentence, little Hollie had summed up a lifetime of changes.
I have seen so many changes, both natural and unnaturally brusque, over the years. When life creates change, we have little choice but to accept them. We do not always find it easy to create change for ourselves… even n the small things.
I yawn at the computer, finish my coffee and stand at the back door in the freezing night air to wake myself up. It’s only eight o’clock. Way too early for bed.
Or is it, really? Why?
Let’s think about this. I’ve been up since five…there’s no one here now but Ani and me, no requirements at this time of night to do anything, only the choice to work, wallow in a bathtub or put my feet up with a film. Granted, I can’t go to bed too early or I’ll have a desperate dog climbing the walls by morning, but she is asleep for the evening so this is a reasonable time as far as she is concerned. Especially given than ‘early to bed, early to rise’ will kick in if I sleep soon. It would do me good to stop tapping away, and relax for a while. So, what stops me?
Guilt. Years of habit, that’s what. Eight o’clock isn’t bedtime, it is the start of the evening in a busy household when everyone is at work all day. This is the time when cooking and dishes are done, time to sit down and relax with the family.
This no longer applies. My household has gone minimalist, just me and the dog, my official working day starts early and my unofficial working day finishes at whatever time I choose to stop writing. Still, the habit of being awake all evening is a hard one to break.
I’m working on it, taking the odd hour or two out to watch a film or read for a while. Because I can. That was a hard one. I can. Me. Selfishly, indulgently.
I hadn’t actually realised the conditioning, the programming, I had both accepted and imposed upon myself over the years; habits and routines that have inadvertently dominated the decades. It is only when that old saying kicks in that you start to notice; ‘you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone’… and it works both ways.
Like a chronic pain that you learn to live with for so long, that it is only when it disappears that you notice it, so it has been since I began to take stock of how hidebound many aspects of my life had become. Many things have changed over the past few years, and those changes highlighted how much of my day was lost to habit. With subtle shifts in responsibility, the ‘I’ that I was is no longer required, redundant. As with many redundancies there was a period of floundering in the unknown as I emerged from under the security blanket of habit, desperately scrabbling to keep hold of at least some of the familiar yet tattered threads.
Routines are not all bad. They allow us to get through the necessary tasks and have time for getting out there and living. There are many routines, however, we are simply unaware of, and because we have done things ‘that way’ for years, we neither notice nor take the opportunities for change.
Now, finally, the I that I am is beginning to unfold. Not because it has to in order to keep pace with the changing circumstances of life, or some outward imposition of change, but because I am choosing, in awareness, to let go of many old and outworn behaviours. And yes, parts of me are kick and scream in protest as I strip back the familiar spars and start the spring cleaning of my days. As with physical spring cleaning, the de-cluttering will hopefully leave me with only those things I need, freeing up the dark cupboards and stuffed drawers. It doesn’t mean changing everything; I am still going to brush my teeth before bed and comb my hair before I go out. It just means being aware of what I am doing and why… and I am finding it to be an ongoing voyage of rediscovery.
We fear change in our secure routines, even when we don’t recognise them as such. They are what we think of as our lives after all, forgetting that these habits are no more than patterns with which we regulate our days. Life may be waiting patiently in the wings for us to give the cue for it to begin a new act, but while we are still immersed in the last, the curtain cannot rise.
A wonderful post of growth and change, yet grounded in the roots of routine, family, tradition… and more. You’ve made a huge step. Bravo!
Thanks, Jennie. I think the problem of tis kind of change is one faced by many people, especially parents as the children become adults. That is a beautiful progression, but it can leave us stranded unless we accept and adjust to those changes.
Indeed!
i understand every single word of this and can so identify.
It is so easy to get stuck…and then feel lost, isn’t it?
Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
Some of us are patiently waiting for the scene to change, indicating a new direction… we must be ever vigilant, spotting the early signs as they begin to appear… ready to leap into action…maybe this year…
Change…and scene-changes.. are always with us but, as you say, Jaye, the trick is to be alert to them and ready to act.
getting harder to do these days!
But never impossible 😉
They say you get used to anything in time, and I’ve found this to be true. Now is the time to please yourself, and why not?
My thoughts exactly, Stevie. I’m fairly sure could get used to doing that too 😉
Routines can be comforting or stifling. I guess it is up to us to decide to rid ourselves of the stifling ones. I have found that I have been totally enveloped in a routine without even being aware of it. Scary!
That’s the problem I think, Bernadette…whether the day passes in awareness or blinkered to what we do and why.
I think you’ve pinpointed the problem, Sue. It isn’t the routine or lack of it in itself that’s the problem, it’s the ‘why’. Whatever we do has to have a point, especially when we reach the decluttered stage of life with fewer demands from other people’s routines. Be aware and choose wisely.
I do think that is it, Jane. Rather than being slaves to habit, we can use routine to free up space for what we choose to do.
Using it rather than being used by it 🙂
It makes sense… too many of our tools end up ruling us. 🙂
🙂
We have kept to our routine, be it in a house or the boat, working or not. In fact, Maggie is so tuned to it that you can almost tell the time by her.
I’ve made collages from old photos of my family, and have great grandparents, grandparents, parents, siblings, nieces and nephews in one. Five generations.
Today we are still five living generations: My Mum, her four children, 7 grandchildren, 12 great grandchildren at the last count that I know of, and a great great grandson who was 4 on Christmas Day. I have do not have photos beyond three. Times do indeed change, cue digital cameras, mobile phones and emails. Our mobile does not do anything other than calls or texts, and so we don’t get images even though we have email.
We were five generations for most of my life… now we are down to four for at least the next fifteen years or so.
My granddaughter’s mother is wonderful at sending me photos…almost every day. She insisted I download WhatsApp on the phone, and I put it on the PC too…it is brilliant for that. She has also made beautiful generational scrapbooks for the girls, with everything in there about their family, back to heir great, great, great grandparents. A lovely thing for her to have done and a way for future generations to know and see a little about their families.
How lovely Sue. My sister had a calendar printed with pictures of my Mum. I never used it, but treasure the photographs. They may be all I have.
I print calendars every year of some of the places we have been… My computer is fill of photos, but I wonder how many will survive a generation now that we print so few.
I did a calendar for my Mum of my trip to NZ, making sure there were pictures of Bro and the family as well as views of statues and stuff, plus one of me.
That’s a lovely idea for a keepsake.
I hope she still has it.
I still have all mine 😉
Such a poignant post Sue. With age comes wisdom my friend. We appreciate more, need more quality and less quantity. And yet we all seem to struggle with change until we are comfortable with it and acknowledge the new that comes with it.<3 xx
Wisdom? Who knows…? But I agree, we need far less, want far less. Perhaps ‘time’ takes on its true value and ‘things’ fall away…
Perhaps you are right! 🙂 xx
Thanks, Jonathan 🙂
A beautiful post, Sue. I am also shedding old routines and learning to listen to “me”.
It can take a while for the reality of that possibility to set in, can’t it?
Thank you for sharing 🙂
Sue, this makes me feel happy and sad at the same time. I do understand… my boys have grown into young men, and although still at home, Christmas has changed. There were times this Christmas when they took over the cooking, or chores, and I literally didn’t know what to do with myself. Carys attends Respite every month for 2 nights and three days, during which she is also at school. I do not see her that whole time. And I realise just how much of my time is taken up just by caring for her. I don’t resent it, although I admit I did once, but it makes me feel so lost. I dont know how to be spontaneous anymore, or do ‘stuff’ just for me. I don’t know what the point of me is. Sounds melodramatic. And here I am hijacking your post and talking about me. I guess you just hit a nerve. I wonder if its a ‘woman’ thing. Anyway, it sounds like you are doing wonders on your voyage of self discovery. You are an amazing and inspirational woman. Happy New Year to you! Xxx
I know what you mean, Ali. As a parent, but especially as a carer, your days are bound up with the needs of others…and you wouldn’t have it any other way. But when that changes, the rug feels pulled out from under your feet and you feel a bit lost. Or a lot lost.
When my partner died, after years of looking after him through disability and then cancer, I no longer recognised the world or myself…had no idea what to do with myself at all. It took a while to sort that out…and I’m still not good at ‘me’ stuff.
I think it is often a ‘woman thing’, simply because of the roles we adopt through need or choice, though not only a woman thing. It is definitely a carer thing though and an aspect of caring for someone that often goes unnoticed and unspoken about. There is a lot of guilt tied up with looking after your own needs when there is someone else who has taken priority…and usually too much exhaustion, mental, physical and emotional, to be bothered when there is time.
There is no melodramatic here. Caring passes underneath the radar too much of the time…and carers are often the worst ‘culprits’ for shrugging off the problems and challenges… because, well, you just do. But there are things that are difficult to speak of…except to another carer who ‘gets’ what you are saying.
Happy New year to you, Ali xxx