When I first started working, all I wanted was cute shoes.
Then, when I lived in a big city, I wanted shoes I could run in.
Then, life (ahem, my poor abused feet) changed. I recently found a pile of hopeful dreams – shoe inserts made to turn cute shoes into comfortable shoes. I have a treasure trove of them. Full foot, half foot, heels only, gel inserts, fancy ones from Dr. Scholl’s, the store brand…a small fortune invested in transformation.
They have me wondering about what changes, and what doesn’t.
Some things are fixed. The exciting job is never going to turn into a place with a regular schedule. The invogorating, dramatic is never going to be the person who leaves you a birthday card, and says to take the afternoon off. The person who takes you to Indonesia on a whim isn’t going to be the parent who hears the baby cry first, and gets up in the night.
In her compelling book, This American Ex-Wife, Lyz Lenz says that people don’t change. The husband who lets the trash fall on the floor will always be thoughtless. My daughter, with the clarity of young adults, says that once people cross the line, there’s no going back. If they hurt you, it’s over. With age, I know I’ve hurt people who let me back in. Thanks to them, I have more faith in redemption.
The problem is intermittent reinforcement. Occasionally, transformation happens. The occasional success with the shoes – and difficult people -- kept me trying longer than I should have.
My shoe inserts announce that I see the world as I want it to be. That’s good for political causes, justice issues, and human beings. Not so good for abusive bosses, difficult people, untenable situations, and itchy clothes.
I’ve tried too hard with the shoes and with some people, and not hard enough with others. Still, out of hope, I didn’t have the heart to throw out the pile of shoe inserts – and I’m keeping the people.
What have you tried too hard to change?
Top image: Pexels. Second image: my actual shoes.
In the context of relationship is the place where change may happen. A place with more vulnerability, compassion and honesty. A place where we are on this circular table with only one side. A place where you acknowledge the limits of your human perception of others and self. Cultivating this space doesn't solve all conflicts, but it provides soil for the impossible to germinate.
I am both trying too hard and not hard enough to change the world. I spend a lot of mental energy on all that is terribly wrong with the world and not enough on thinking about (and acting on) what is in my power to do.