Transitions

Any change results in stress. (Well, except for my favorite definition of stress : The confusion caused by the mind overriding the body's basic desire to choke the living s### out of somebody who desperately needs it.) Even good changes cause stress.

What happens though, when we avoid making the changes to avoid the stress (along with the fear of the unknown)? I've found that in most cases, it makes things worse, not better.

This isn't my first blog. The first one I did was on my web site, and was lost when earthlink screwed up and de-activated my account, wiping it out. One of the first entries I had done there was about the impact that my son crossing over from cub scouts had on me - more so the fact that I was his cub scout den leader for four years, and then suddenly wasn't. It was hard for me. I enjoyed working with the boys, and I enjoyed the fellowship of the other leaders.

The proper thing to do is to accept the change, and move on with it. I didn't. I didn't want the good feelings I got to end. So I stuck with the pack. I stayed on the pack committee, I stayed as the advancement chairman, I stayed as the pack webmaster. That was almost three years ago.

Looking back, staying on was a mistake. I was trying to keep something, and that wasn't going to happen. The first year was ok, going to the committee meetings and the occassional pack meeting, doing the work, tracking the information. Then another blue and gold rolled around, and more of the adults and kids I knew left. Like I should have done, but didn't. I missed them, but they new to move on with their lives.

The next year wasn't so good. There was no joy in it anymore for me. I did the work, because I said I would. I prepared for it to end (I had to rehost the website away from my personal space, so that someone else could take it over. I didn't do it right, as I still own the space, but it is not my personal space (it is now hosted by godaddy.com) but it will be easier to move it once the current hosting plan expires).

I was staying on for one person, but eventually I realized that I couldn't do it for her anymore. I had lost everything that made it worthwhile to me. I didn't know any of the kids anymore - all the ones I knew had moved on. I barely knew any of the adults, and honestly, some of the new ones I didn't like. At the blue & gold last year, I worked my butt off to help serve and clean up (and ended up sick as a dog afterward - though I hope it wasn't related) being the very last one to eat - and by the time I did a lot of the food was gone (there was no chicken left at all). But the hardest part was my son and I had no place for us - we were outsiders. I should have been at a leader table, but there was none. Almost nobody there knew who we were. And I never feel more alone than I do in a crowd where I don't know anybody.

It is interesting to me to see how it had gone from something I had so enjoyed, to a source of pain. Not only did I not belong, but afterward, I found that I no longer cared.

So close to three years after I should have left, I finally did. It was hard acknowledging the fact that I no longer had the time or inclination to help out. I've found time is an interesting thing - you can always find the time for those things you care about, and can never find the time for those things you don't. Looking at emails that I had not done anything about for four months made me realize it was time to move on.

So I'm no longer associated with Cub Scout Pack 840 out of West Carrollton Ohio. I have a bag of stuff to give the cubmaster, and once I give that to her, then I won't have much to do with them except add an occassional email address (since I made the godaddy account under my name), until that expires, when they can host it somewhere else.

I tried to avoid the discomfort of leaving, only to create much more, deeper, and worse discomfort for myself. The last year with the pack was not enjoyable for me at all, and now that it is done all I feel is relief and thankfulness. Much the same way as when my grandmother died after many years in a nursing home, unable to remember anybody (including her own daughter, my mother). Any grief I had over that was long gone, sucked up by the pain of watching her linger on, the pain in my mother's face of not having her own mother know who she was, so that when she finally did die, it was a relief. So with this, it is a relief.

This is a pattern in my life. My first marriage was the same way. There is a very good chance I'm living the pattern again right now in my current job as well.

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I'm down another pound this week. This also has me thinking a bit. My stated goal weight is 172. However what does it mean to hit that - is it 172.8 (total of 80 lbs lost)? That rounds to 173. Is it 172.4 - when it rounds to 172? Is it 172.0? Or should it be 167 (which is the high point for my real height - I used to say I was 5' 11" - but measuring myself without shoes there is no way - I'm lucky to be 5' 10"). Then there is also the idea of getting down another 25 lbs - get a gold ring and new magnet - hit that magic 100 lb mark (though getting to 152 doesn't seem realistic to me).
What I'm hoping is to get real close, then blow past my goal weight (ideally that would be 2 lbs next week, then more than a pound the week after, or even a little slower - the idea of hitting my goal on my birthday is kind of appealing for some reason).