We’re on Day Seven of the ten part series: “Mommy Like a Rock Star”.
To catch up, visit here.
You could be anywhere. It’s a joke on tour, a code for the fact that pretty much anywhere houses the same bed Bath and Beyonds, Targets, and Outback Steakhouses all in a row.
But beyond the commentary on the homogeneous nature of our culture, it’s a comforting mantra. You could be anywhere, and the same things show up on the rider. You could be anywhere, and the driver will still make the crock pot full of soup and the bread in the breadmaker every morning.
I had a conversation with a dear friend the other day who may be moving far away. I’m comforted by the fact that she would be moving to one of my favorite places in the world, but will of course miss having her close by. But our chat led to this topic: of the resourcefullness required to start anew, to wake up and be anywhere and still be OK. She described it so perfectly:
“First, you wake up and you don’t know anything. And you think, Oh my God, what have I done? But then you find out where the grocery store is, and you think, OK. I know where to get food. I’m OK. And then you learn the name of the receptionist at your work, and you think, OK. I know someone here, I’m OK. Then you find out…” And we went through the steps of building familiarity, of finding one’s comfort zone.
I remember the first time I left my comfort zone completely. As I do many things, it was rather all or nothing. I drove my Nissan Pathfinder across the country, from Maryland to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I was twenty. It took me three days of sleeping at truck stops. I didn’t have a job lined up, I knew one person in Jackson (whom I was pretty sure broke up with me en route, but you know, I had to check, right?:)
I remember the terror of waking up in the shadow of those huge gorgeous mountains, and thinking “What have I done?” I’m here, now what?”
But then I got a job washing dishes. And with the job came a little cabin in grand Teton National Park, shared by a girl from Minnesota.
And then I learned where the best swimming hole was, for enjoying before my 4 pm to close shift began. Then I learned where people cashed their paychecks on days off, and where they went to boulder and do longer climbs.
And before a week was out, I felt sorry for the new kids that were still showing up and getting drunk too fast from the altitude adjustment. Because I felt home. I realized that I could find a way to take care of myself anywhere, and it was comforting.
When have you had to face down total newness, and come out ahead? What adaptability skills have you learned along the way, and how do you teach them to your kids?
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