* motives

Motives are important. And I need to understand mine.

Why am I so fascinated by change?

And why do I want to embark on this specific exploration of it?

As long as I can remember my life has involved change. From a very young age I have experienced changes that many would consider momentous - moving house, moving countries, divorce of my parents, moving from a city to a village and back to a city, changing schools, changing universities, moving house - again. And again. In adulthood I've changed cities, changed countries, changed continents... more than once. Many more. With these changes came all the attendant adjustments - new jobs, new friends, new geographies, new languages... new everything. I never questioned this - it felt right - each change made for good reason. Something I could buy into. And I did. Not that it wasn't sometimes challenging and difficult but I dealt with it, embraced it even. Life was an adventure. A series of adventures. When it was difficult I found ways to make it easier, ways to create continuity and a sense of stability. Little things, but things that worked: my small box of treasures that went everywhere I did and once unpacked, instantly made wherever I was feel like home - pictures of my family and friends, small objects that reminded me of happy times and places. And I processed my feelings through writing. Feelings processed are feelings managed for me. Understood.

One of the few stable aspects of my life has been those family and friends who, even when they are far away, provide a solid foundation. I am self-sufficient, independent even, but I know I can not enjoy the same quality of life alone as that which I enjoy enriched by these people and the love they offer and allow me to return. I am very fortunate. Not least of these important people was my husband and partner, M. He was a constant for more than half my life. Someone I liked, loved, depended upon: the hat to which I, the butterfly, was attached by a gossamer thread. He gave me an external centre, a safe place to land, a place to rest and restore my heart, and a place from which to launch myself when a new project arose. I met him when I was just seventeen and we were together from that moment on. We loved each other. I felt understood. It wasn't always easy but, we were together - through thick and thin, forever. We'd promised each other. And I believed it.

Without dredging up all the gory details, suffice to say that on the brink of a new age, middle age, he changed his mind and left me. Very suddenly. There was less than a week between me first hearing about it and seeing him for the last time. After more than twenty years together, I was alone, just like that. It turned out that apparently love is not enough and that not everyone keeps their promises. Who knew? Not me. Or at least, perhaps I never thought it would happen to me. I just didn't think about it at all in fact. Why would I? I had every intention of keeping my promise and I assumed he did too. What a cliché. I didn't see it coming. I didn't want it to happen. I had no control over it. It was a change that shattered my self-belief in a way I would not have imagined possible. I felt like a kite cut loose from its string and left to float away. I know that perhaps seems overly dramatic and compared to many, I didn't lose that much, and certainly no more than millions of others have dealt with before me. And now, still dealing with the change but safely back on the ground I'm able to say that the hurt and healing have made me stronger. But it left me weaker too - a lot scarred and a little scared. A bit more cautious about adventuring in general and very protective of my heart.

Of all the things I lost in that transformation (which is still underway really) the thing that had the most impact is the loss of confidence in my ability to make judgments. If I got that SO wrong, how could I trust anything? Trust myself? Everything felt shaky and unstable. And I couldn't write. For three long years, I couldn't write at all. With these two thing missing (three if you count the all important hat-man) I felt adrift and completely ill-equipped to deal with life, my life. I was just in survival mode. All decisions were based on what I needed to do to survive. I floundered. And again, to escape the change that was foisted on me and to regain some sense of control, what I chose was change - new city, new job, in a new field, new hairstyle... It kept me busy, it kept me distracted.

And now, after a few years, I feel that change is required again. But I'd like to be more deliberate, more conscious about it this time. Not abandon quickly and indiscriminately those things that work for me but change those things that don't with care and diligence.

So here, in this space, I intend to explore ideas around change, consider the advice of others, talk it through with myself, think about techniques I might employ to manage the changes, mull over the things I try and record what works and what doesn't. And perhaps most importantly for me on this particular journey, check in with how it makes me feel. I want to face my fears and rediscover my sense of adventure... because really, what use is a kite that doesn't fly at all, or a butterfly attached to a hat?