When You Change, Everything Changes
- Author Susan Dunn,
- Published October 11, 2005
- Word count 1,220
It was my first visit back home in over a year. I’d been in
Minnesota for college, and returned home just long enough to
marry and move to North Carolina.
I returned with a year old baby, the wife of a medical
student, struggling to put food on the table, though at that
time in life materials things don’t matter much.
This town I returned to, I had hated. Why? Because we had
moved every 3 years, and it had been fine until this time,
but it was 3 weeks before high school, and what kid would
want to start a new high school of 4,000 not knowing a soul?
My Dad infuriated me by acting like he’d done me a favor,
and I made it clear to him he had ruined my life. We dug
into our positions. “Why did you do this to me?” I
bellowed. “You ought to appreciate it,” he said, and told
me why, but I didn’t listen. “You’ll appreciate it some
day,” he said, finding me beyond reason.
What did I hate? The size of the school, having to compete
with Ann-Margret (the movie star) if I wanted to sing in the
musical, their Chicago accents, and the crowning blow – my
advisor dubbed me “Sue” the first day and I never got rid of
it. In fact my favorite thing about going off to college
was being able to reclaim my name. If I hadn’t sunk into
the victim position, I might have been able to reclaim it
sooner!
I hated the gray skies and the freezing winter wind, but I
hated spring worse. They released us at spring break to
wander the streets in wretched weather with dirty snow
everywhere. My family never got to go on a cruise like
everyone else’s. But I hated the summers worse because it
was never hot enough to get a tan. Not a happy camper, I
gathered evidence to substantiate my feelings.
Fast forward to my return to this horrible place. Winnetka
is one of the affluent suburbs on the North Shore of
Chicago. A planned community nestled on the shores of Lake
Michigan, with more Frank Lloyd Wright houses than anywhere
else in the nation, it is astoundingly beautiful, a place
you dream of living.
With my blinders off and my attitude corrected, I saw it
from my Dad’s point of view. He worked hard to give us the
best he could, and how proud he must’ve been to move us
there. In fact I remember it in his walk as he showed me
around the first week there. “It’s the best public high
school in the nation,” he told me, and the education I
received got me into one of the best liberal arts colleges
in the nation.
The crime rate was so low we never locked our doors.
Everything was a short drive away, and there was always
parking. There was everything Chicago has to offer – the
art museum where I spent many a Saturday, recently voted
best in the nation. Parks within walking distance which
they froze in the winter for skating.
As I drove through the village, the sun slanted through the
trees on either side of the wide road that arched overhead.
“You can’t tell me people don’t think about future
generations,” my Dad often said. “Someone planted all those
trees who never lived to see them.”
“This is the most beautiful place on earth,” I mused to
myself, astounded at my earlier perceptions and attitude.
Could this really be that “horrible place”? As a parent, I
could only dream of providing such for my own child some
day. Most of all I was stunned at what I had missed, in my
retelling of this terrible place. Once I had closed my
mind, I hadn’t let any fact intrude. I had had plenty of
good times there – how could you not – but in the retelling,
you wouldn’t have known it.
I went over in my mind what I had then that I had no more –
I had taken for granted and devalued a lake in the back yard
with boating as well as beauty, nationally acclaimed museums
and cultural events, convenience, service people who knew
you by name, the best public education possible at the time,
nice people, and safety.
I had the inklings of a lesson … how your attitude effects
your perceptions and your thoughts affect your emotions.
But it took a few more rounds because moving is difficult.
You wonder if there will be friends, and all the unknowns.
My husband and I continued the family tradition of moving
every 3 years. By the 2nd move it had finally sunk in that
there’s beauty everywhere, something to appreciate that
you’ll miss like hell when you leave and may never see again
in your life, and nice people everywhere. If they call you
something you don’t like, you “just say no,” and you get
used to the weird accents.
When we left Durham and moved to Cincinnati, I missed the
cozy town, the ocean, and the lovely parks, but I gained a
cul-de-sac that was like a kibbutz for my only child, great
restaurants, and the opportunities of a big city. It was
the gloomy snow belt again, but there wasn’t mold in the
back of the closets. It’s always a tradeoff.
Back we went to Durham, then on to San Antonio, Texas. When
we got to San Antonio, I missed the colorful four seasons,
and getting anywhere in 5 minutes, but rejoiced in the
sunshine, the plethora of restaurants, and the
muliticultural influence. The first tornado warning scared
me, and the rattlesnakes, scorpions and tarantulas were
unnerving, but I remembered how I’d adjusted to the mold on
the back of closets in Durham and the slugs on the back
porch, no less unnerving. I was learning to cope with
change, and handle transitions.
I realized the things I’d missed, and so learned to approach
the next move with optimism, to seek and find and appreciate
the good in it, and to enjoy it every day. In fact I’d
immediately start a mental list of “things I’m gonna miss a
lot one day” to stay focused on the positive, enhance my
enjoyment, to bloom where planted.
I should add that my mother complained the entire time she
lived in Winnetka, which is no doubt where I learned that
attitude. I was lucky to get the lesson in my face so
young. Right now I’d love to have had the life she had
then, as far as the location was concerned, but of course it
wasn’t the place that pained her, it was the pain inside her
that made the place unbearable. It was just easier to blame
it on the place than to do the work on the pain inside.
You see, moving doesn’t really solve anything if you’re
miserable, because you take you with you. It’s cleaning up
the place inside you that allows you to find the best
wherever you are and find the good wherever you are – and
that, of course, it figurative as well as literal.
P.S. I appreciate it, Dad.
©Susan Dunn, MA, The EQ Coach, http://www.susandunn.cc .
Susan is the author of “Changing Beliefs, Self-Limiting
Thoughts and What to Accept,” and provides coaching,
business coaching, Internet courses, and ebooks around
emotional intelligence for your personal and professional
success. She offers EQ Alive! a coach certification program
that’s fast, affordable, and no-residency.
Mailto:sdunn@susandunn.cc for free EQ ezine.
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