The Times They Are A’Changin’

I recall the lyrics to a song from my youth that pointed out the difference between cope and change. The singer opined that most people believe the two words are basically the same. The lyricist, however, argued that they were, in fact, opposites. Cope keeps one in his or her current situation. Change brings about, well, change.

I’ve done a lot of coping in my life, but I’ve recently realized it has prevented a lot of change from happening. My coping mechanism is fairly simple: When I begin to feel overwhelmed, I disengage. I separate myself physically and emotionally from that which I believe is the source of the overwhelming. I pull up the stakes, pick up my tent and leave. I take my ball and go home. I put up the walls to protect myself – but that also means that nobody is allowed inside.

Some of my earliest recollections of this involves that farmhouse I described in the previous post. As I said, I remember vividly the turmoil and chaos in that house – my grandmother yelling at whatever seemed to move, my uncles and aunts at each other’s throats, and a grandfather who sought solace in a cow barn or a bean field – all in the presence of my father who seemed at best inconvenienced by the fact a court demanded he parent four Saturdays and Sundays each month. Even as a 6-year-old the environment made me uncomfortable. I knew this wasn’t healthy, but as a kid it is impossible to understand. So I would leave that farmhouse and go anywhere on those dozens of acres where I couldn’t be found. Solace was in a hay loft, in the crook of a crabapple tree, in the rusted out bed of an old pickup literally sent out to pasture to decay under a grove of cottonwood trees. But that time alone wasn’t healthy either, at least not as a kid. I didn’t have the skills or the experience to correctly process all that I had heard and seen. Children can only fantasize and internalize. What had I done that must have contributed to this bad thing? I must not be acting appropriately, I deduced, or there wouldn’t be so much negative clamor.

The pattern continued as I grew older and stepped through additional overwhelming experiences and traumas. When I got old enough to drive, I would dash into the car and just drive aimlessly through the countryside. And when I went off to college, my dorm room or apartment served as a comfortable place to shut out the world. If relationships with girlfriends became too sticky, I’d quickly retreat from them. It was never healthy but always felt safe.

And this frustrating pattern continued when the bridge collapse occurred and spat right in the face of my marriage. This was the mother of all overwhelming experiences and I felt I needed to withdraw and emotionally shut down. That’s a huge problem, as I had just gotten engaged and was moving toward a wedding day. It’s a futile recipe for a young marriage when your default is to withdraw from your partner and start building walls. The past five-plus years are the effect of that, and it has been anything but smooth. In fact, it’s been rocky the whole way. My poor coping strategy isn’t solely to blame, but it plays its role.

So now I’m almost 40. The burden rests heavily and squarely on my shoulders. Happiness and contentment won’t be found if this unhealthy pattern continues. I finally know that I need change, and I want it. Otherwise the status quo rolls on. How will this affect my relationship with my son? I dread to think about it. So it’s time to fix it.

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’

– Robert Zimmerman