The other day, as I was making dinner, I looked out the south window of my living room to see the snow-capped mountains in the distance against the bright blue sky filled with white clouds…a Montana staple. I then looked down slightly and saw a giant dirt pile in a field across the street that has been growing and growing, and I sighed, thinking to myself “better enjoy this view while you still can.”
That big dirt pile is the beginning of what will be an 8 story multi-complex that’s being built in the field across the street from my house. When I first bought this house 8 years ago, I loved that there was a big open field next to me that allowed for such pretty and expansive views from all my windows. Yes, I was in the suburbs, in a condo, with neighbors within an earshot of the nightly news on their tvs, but at least I could see the mountains and the sky from the windows.
I knew the field would be developed at some point, but I’d hoped it would be at best a Trader Joes and at worst some single family homes. It never occurred to me that it might be homes for hundreds of people in buildings that take my mountain views away.
I feel bad for complaining. I am a California transplant. I too am part of the movement that has eventually driven up the prices in this town and changed it. I’m privileged to even have my own house. But as I look out the window at the giant dirt pile, I can’t help but feel a sense of impending loss, and the impending nature of it has me instead of appreciating the last moments of the view, it’s almost like I don’t even want to look at it, as a way to get a jumpstart on the grief I think I’ll feel in losing it.
This reminds me of something my mom does whenever I visit which is get really sad about me leaving way before I walk out the door…days even. She knows it’s coming, and almost as if to prepare herself for the future sad of when I’m gone, she gets sad now, while I’m still there.
And as I am staring at this dirt pile, I realize I’m doing the same thing. Instead of appreciating all the last moments I have with this view, I’m preparing myself to lose it by grieving it while it’s still here.
“Don’t get too attached to this,” I think to myself, “it’s going to go away.”
And this reminds me about how may times in my life I’ve done this, as a mechanism to try to prevent future pain (which spoiler alert: doesn’t work).
“Don’t get too comfortable with the happiness, it’ll go away eventually” and
“Don’t count on his love and support, it probably won’t last” and
“Better always have a job in your back pocket in case you lose this one” and ultimately, probably deep down
“Don’t get too used to this life, you might lose it.”
I’ve been in enough personal development courses and books and therapy sessions to know that this is a trauma response and a learned belief system that’s been run over and over again by the car in my mind over the neural pathway super highway of my brain as a way to “protect” me from pain. I know enough to know that this was a system I created when my brain wasn’t developed enough to know what logic is as a way to keep myself “safe,” and I also know that that mechanism of safety and protection serves only the purpose to make me suffer now, and yet, as I looked out the window, I went right there…down that highway, without even thinking. But this time, I caught myself right away.
Changing these highways and automatic responses is honestly, a lot of f*%#ing work. No wonder why people don’t like doing it, and why many never do, letting the highways of their patterns become permanent fixtures in their minds. The habits run so deep. The effort to change feels neverending. And the older I get, and the more years I’ve been running over them with my car, the harder it feels to change them. But also, the more important it feels to keep trying.
Lately, I’ve had some breakthroughs in this work. I am noticing the pattern faster, and trying to go down a different, kinder road sooner. The repetition and the effort is starting to pay off, little by little. And for that, I’m so proud of myself. It’s never too late to be a little more kind to yourself and a little more aware.
I’ve also been feeling these giant feelings like…