Change

It wasn’t until a few months ago that I realized I needed a change.

I started small: instead of having cold cereal for breakfast, I had oatmeal. I bought instant packages of oatmeal and heated them up with water in the microwave. By the time I finished the bowl I was gagging on the thick, hot oatmeal and wanted no part of it. This made me think that I simply needed a bigger change, so I tried eating hamburgers and french fries every morning. This got too time consuming and gave me heartburn for the rest of the morning. I thought that perhaps the problem wasn’t breakfast.

The next thing I changed was my diet. I threw out every bit of food my wife and I had in our pantry and refrigerator and bought all the heart-healthy, fad-diet crap I could find. Kashi, soy beans, soy milk, all things bran. For days everything I ate could only be found in strange nutrition shops or farmers’ markets.

The need for change persisted, and I realized I was again on the wrong path.

My wife and I had been married for six years and had been together for a total of twelve. This could be the problem, I thought. I immediately filed for divorce, changed the locks, and burned all of her belongings in the fireplace (the first and only time I’ve ever used it).

This felt like the right change. I was beginning to feel somewhat whole again, somewhat myself. But yet a bit of the feeling was still there.

I worked as a computer technician making about $42 an hour. This could be the problem. The job had consumed my life. For the past ten years all I could remember doing was trying to climb my way up in the corporation, and I had. I was ready to become a partner. They were ready to invest part of their future in me. They were surprised, angry, when I called them and told them i was quitting. This felt right. This felt good.

It took 3 months for my emergency money account to be completely drained. First I got hungry, having only some dried soy to eat. The electricity got cut off. And then my landlord pried open the door and served me my eviction notice.

I’m writing this on a large piece of cardboard (all that I could find in my home) as my last piece of furniture is being removed and sold for rent reimbursement. I am just now realizing, as I watch the furniture being shifted and then removed, that the only change I needed was to rearrange the furniture.