the change
✨when you rethink aliveness✨
Anyone else have a love-hate relationship with April?
In a piece called “a love note to April” from 2022, I wrote: “Oh, April. You're a month of indecision. You can't quite land on a proper temperature. You linger between winter’s end and summer's horizon. You seem to be a month that hangs out between here and there. But what we love about you, April, is that you allow yourself to get soaked. Drenched. You're not shy about puddles, mud, floods. You make way for the blooms of May. You're doing the dirty work, April. And we respect you for that.”
Historically, with April’s arrival, these same mixed feelings emerge and seep into my psyche, and I find myself wavering in my emotional landscape.
And it’s not just April; if I’m going to bare my seasonal sensitivities, spring, as a whole, tends to unsettle me. I’ve preferred the secure seasonal landing spots of summer (in its predictable sunny warmth) and winter (in its predictable snowcapped chill), over the transitional seasons in-between. Too much change in the blooming and dying of vegetation in spring and autumn. Stunning to observe? Yes. Uncomfortable in their transient impermanence? Also, yes.
Similarly, it seems like there are predictable and secure landing stages in life’s trajectory, like: childhood, high school, maybe college, maybe parenthood, maybe grandparenthood, and elderlyhood. And then there are stretches of life that feel like the in-between times, like: adolescence, the twenties, the career years, midlife, emptynesthood. And those in-between stages are kind of like the in-between seasons—stages where new things bloom and other things die off. And all that unpredictability can be uncomfortable.
My adolescent son, for instance, just got a mouth full of braces for the first time. In anticipation, he actually felt excited about the new stage, since so many of his peers have them; but on the drive back to school from the orthodontist’s office, stuck with the clunky metallic sensation upon all of his teeth and a packet detailing all his new responsibilities and restrictions, his mood shifted. He seemed sad and admitted as much; when I asked what he felt sad about, he said, “growing up.”
Sigh. I get it, Bud. I thought of our recent experience realizing that we’d outgrown the children’s section of the library. (You can read about it here.) Braces are yet another one of these quiet markers that signify being one step farther away from childhood.
In an effort to uplift his spirits, I mentioned that growing up has good parts too. He glumly asked: “like what?” And on the spot, I’m embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t come up with much. Truth is, I empathized with my kid—childhood (for many) is awesome. I said something to him about independence, but he didn’t seem convinced. Now, however, upon reflection and from behind my keyboard, I realize that growing up—like the other in-between stages of life—is like April.
The in-between seasons are filled with indecision, vacillation and lingering, because we’re neither here no there. And muddy puddles surround us and pop up sporadically. But April seems to invite us to welcome the floods of emotions and efforts and messes. April is a reminder that the in-between seasons are the times in life when we’re most likely to get soaked in the newness of all kinds of things… things that spark our curiosity, our creativity, our confidence, our connections.
The hopeful outlook is that as we navigate our way through the in-between stages, we’re making way for the blooms that will come forth as we approach the next secure landing spot. Right now, I want my son to trust that he's simply doing the dirty work for the next best part of his life. And there’s more….
How timely that in Kelly Corrigan's latest podcast episode she refers to a definition she’d recently heard of what it means to be alive, which is always changing. Kelly explains that “change is the signature state of aliveness.” (unknown source, at the 25:06 episode marker.)
Adopting this perspective works for my sensitive soul. I think I’ve lived so much of my life in fear of what’s to come—fear of what I’ll lose—especially when I’m happy as is. Change, inherently, alters what is; so, I’ve resisted change. I’ve considered change to be a rock to my boat, rather than a wave I can ride. And I wonder if my son subconsciously shares that outlook.
But what I’m surprised to notice, as I inhabit this midlife in-between stage, is that the older I get, the more spring, with all its change, is feeling comfortable. Spoiler alert: I may even prefer spring to summer, in how it makes me feel. Spring, although unpredictable, is far more interesting to me now, because of it’s changing nature.
Spring allows me to live inside of anticipation, which I’ve grown to appreciate. (Read more about that here.) But also, I suspect that I’ve tweaked my perspective on what substantiates a secure landing spot. Rather than thinking on a macro scale where big swaths of time are landing spots—like summer, in actual seasons, or like midlife, in seasons of life—my mind is organically shifting to a micro scale where a secure landing spot could be an afternoon, an experience, a conversation.
Life really is—simply put—a long series of transitions. And objectively, sunshine and gloom exist somewhere in all the seasons. Personally, I’d rather feel alive than feel like I’m dying. How about you? If you’re with me, it makes sense that we embrace life’s ever-changing, unpredictable rhythm.
So, thanks April. This year, at long last, you’ve changed me.
Let’s keep growing.
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If my essays punctuate your inbox in a positive way, consider the gift of a chai latte to further fuel this writer. xo
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Other ways I can support your inner self today:
Cozy up with me and my dog for this week’s story — “the family” — on Becoming Everwell with Linds.
Enroll in my FREE Masterclass: The 5-Step Framework to Thriving as a Midlife Mom. Or, take my QUIZ.
Listen to this podcast episode, where I was recently interviewed by a death doula (Traci Arieli) on her podcast: Comforting Closure. (Learn more about my Forever Letter Writing services. Be in touch if you’re curious.)
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A word of thanks…
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Lovely writing. April is a tough month on the East coast. Not so much in California. But all the blooming flowers and baby animals make it a wonderful time of year!