Catalyst for Change?

I've been waiting for this. I don't mean waiting as in anticipating it, or planning for it, or preparing myself in any way; I mean this is exactly what I need, the perfect catalyst for a decision-making process I've been essentially ignoring for several years now.

My husband and I have been sitting across from each other on the sofas at night, trying to figure out what we need to do to make our life better, what we need to do to be happier, and coming up with nothing. We've known we needed to make a decision, a sacrifice, a change -- something, anything -- but what? What's the question we need to answer? What are our choices? What do we sacrifice?

Here it is. I got laid off. This is my chance.

It's hard to sacrifice anything you've grown accustomed to when you don't have to give it up. It's hard to make changes in your life when nothing else is changing. I'm too lazy -- or my dad might say too inert -- to change anything I don't have to. Even if life in general isn't working, it's still moving. I'm just sitting back and letting it all happen.

I'm getting too old to be afraid of everything; for me, that's what it all boils down to. I've made choices that have left me -- at best -- generally dissatisfied, because I was afraid of the temporary discomfort the better choice would cause, or afraid I would make someone mad, or fail, or screw up something. I've spent my entire life afraid I'd make the wrong choice and not be able to go back, and now I've come to the realization that you can't go back if you never go anywhere to begin with. And at this point, I have nothing to be afraid of. The worst has already happened. And happened, and happened, and happened again.

Generally speaking, I'm not what you'd call an optimist. I prefer denial to dealing, atrophy to exercise, brooding to the bright side. I have a hard time believing everything happens for a reason. But to quote immortal philosophers and theologians The Brady Bunch, "When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange who you are into what you're gonna be." Sha-na-na-na-na.

I'm going back to school. We may end up moving into a less expensive place, and I'll almost certainly have a part-time job -- or three -- in either retail or foodservice, with crappy hours and crappy pay. But I'm going back to school. And when I'm done with school, I won't have to sit behind a desk and answer the phone. I may never have to create another spreadsheet (unless I just want to; I do love the spreadsheets). I won't have to stand behind a cash register all day or pour a cup of coffee for anyone who isn't me.

It's going to be a long few years. I'll probably see my little boy only on the weekends, and my husband may be in bed already by the time I get home in the evenings. But then, he may be writing. He may be playing music. He may be doing any number of things he's been wanting to do all this time that he hasn't done because I've been sitting there across from him with a drink in one hand and a lack of motivation in the other. It won't be easy, and it won't be comfortable, but I've got to grow a pair and risk being uncomfortable to get what I know I want, what I know I need, what I know will make things better for all of us in the long run.

I'm going to ring in the big three-oh in February and say goodbye to fear and letting my life happen without me. My kid deserves to grow up seeing his mom take risks to get what she wants; otherwise, he'll grow up the way I did: afraid to decide, afraid to risk, afraid to try.

What's happened -- in a word (a family-friendly, radio-edit word that egregiously understates the circumstance) -- stinks. But for me, it's an opportunity. In Fight Club, Tyler Durden says, "The things you own end up owning you." And having spent years working in an industry based entirely on conspicuous consumption, it's hard to look at life that way. But now is the time for me. Own less, live more, be fearless.

This song has been on endless loop in my car, my apartment, my iTunes for the past three days, and it's been an inspiration, so I'll share it with you. Ladies and Gentlemen, Bruce Springsteen.