Life Forced Me into a Tailspin so I Changed Directions

The new me is a little overweight, maybe 10–15 pounds, but still sexy as hell. My hair color is varied; according to the box the base color is Beeline Honey, but a stylist added light blond and auburn highlights. At one time, they blended beautifully. Then the grey roots grew exposing a skunk line down the middle of my head. I covered that with some anti-grey wash-in dye my husband used and learned "Just For Men" means not for women. It didn't turn out like I planned so now there are patches yes, patches of brown splattered around as if I recently finished a game of paintball.

Most days I can be found wearing comfortable sweats, sitting in a chair and typing with a cup of lukewarm coffee. This morning I whipped up a batch of homemade pumpkin muffins, thanks to a boxed mix from Costco, and ate a slice for breakfast. After a shower, a second slice called to me, and I discovered it delivered as much satisfaction as the first. Life is good.

Unless you knew me before, my transformation might go unnoticed. However, the new me breathes easier, feels healthier, lives happier. Very little persistently worries me. I drove down the road of anxiety for so many years, concerned about what might appear around the next corner, allowing my body to absorb each pothole and every bump that my body grew tired, bruised and sensitive to the touch.

I not only insisted on driving my own car, I navigated others, a self-proclaimed backseat driver. Fueled by the belief that if I controlled my destination and designed the road maps for everyone else, a paved road would provide a smooth ride leading to a destination of safety and success.

Then mom died. After sleeping on a windowsill for many nights, rubbing her feet and guarding her from human error, the doctor's announced the end, and the machines quit humming.

My daughter, mourning the loss of her grandma, quit eating. The doctors assigned many labels: anorexic, bulimic, depressed, suicidal; she tried to control something in her life. Fortunately, our family bonded together, embraced and provided support to sustain the crisis; we survived.

The day the doctor's office phoned and requested our youngest daughter return to the office to discuss the test results. I sat beside her to hear the diagnosis, cancer, osteosarcoma. Again, the family rallied and beat the beast.

The day my dog died, a family member for 13 years, it was the proverbial last straw. That straw broke my back - the one that allowed me to stand upright on the worst days and the one I carried everyone else on. When I crawled into bed, the pillows covered my head, the blankets covered the pillows, and I acknowledged things had to change or my journey would lead to a dead-end road. I asked myself three questions.

1. Why stress and worry if the results remained the same?
2. Why attempt to control the uncontrollable?
3. What do I gain by directing others' lives, if I do not live my own?

Within a month, my husband and I sold our home, as well as the house we rented for extra income. I quit my job as an administrator in public education. We started over.

While living in an extended stay for several months, we contracted to have a new home built, a smaller yard with no pasture, fountain, fruit trees, garden, berry patch or half acre of grass; a smaller house with no office, two less bedrooms, two less bathrooms, no huge shop, and overall less square feet.

I transferred to a new school and started teaching at the beginning of the school year. A job that narrowed my circle of influence and circle of concern thus allowing me both increased positive interactions with kids and a feeling of efficacy.

My husband and I bought two new Harley Davidson Motorcycles, carrying us on planned trips and on short excursions prompted on a whim. Our life journey started to provide internal satisfaction.

Yes, we make less money. Yes, my multiple degrees prove unnecessary. Yes, we downsized in our living situation. But, we own the essentials and two Harleys. We eat well, are surrounded by friends and family, and we experience daily satisfaction, love, and contentment.

So, now you may ask, "Is life perfect?" Of course not! We are humans living in an imperfect world. Problems still arise, illness still afflicts loved ones, and I still have concerns. But the difference is that I do not allow worry to consume me. I am living life one day at a time.

Once I learned, acknowledged, and accepted that it is not my duty to solve all problems and heal the world, I dumped the baggage that weighed me down and climbed in the backseat to enjoy the journey, except when I am on the Harley I drive.

I am OK with detours and if the trip takes longer than planned, fine by me. In fact, I am content with never making it to the destination - because it is the ride that makes life worth living.

If you find yourself driving a car filled with others and feel responsible for them all . . . If that car is headed for the concrete divider in the middle of the road . . . If you know a sudden swerve could plummet everyone off a cliff, then it is time to pull over and reevaluate the road map.