changing it up

I’ve increasingly become aware that I am a creature of comfort.

Though I love spontaneity and random acts of adventure, I’m a person that relies on baseline day-to-day regularity as my epoxy. I’m a habit forming, native clenching person that wants his core Monday-Friday this week to be analogous to next week’s.

When a change in pattern occurs, no matter how much time is given to prepare for the transition, my auto-response is to composedly sedate myself. Aiming to project demure poise, I cast a cool shadow on my surroundings while internally scheming how to extricate myself from these off-kilter feelings.

I, like anyone, plant meaningful roots in my relationships. When a person is uprooted from my life, it feels like a part of me withers and droops, shrivels and dies.

I bring this all up becuase my best friend at work has now quit and, god bless her, is on to bigger and better things. but through all her positive upward movement I'm left at the office taking up her tasks and feeling alone, acting reclusive and unsure of choices to make.

Though her departure has left me with some grievances, its obvious our once common rapport will morph into a more meaningful friendship filled with social dates and cocktail parties. Once that connector bridge is built between coworker and friend, everything should be all set.

An alteration to regularity is like a splash of cold water on exposed skin; it’s a shock which has prompted me to be more self-reliant and withdrawn with all this much-to-do. Given the time, I don’t see why I can’t rekindle the vivacity of which I’m accustomed to.

Who couldn’t be a creature of comfort? Cutting myself some slack, I think I’ll pine for consistency until I find it.