Timing: The Loon Socks

I hang on too long. Except when I give up too easily. But often, I hang on too long.

Nearly two decades ago, I was part of a breakfast group. I liked these four women enough to meet them for breakfast once a week (or once a month? hazy) at 7 a.m. (It seems incredible to Ms. Not-a-Morning-Person now.) We met to talk about "Plan B." I'm up to about Plan Q at this point, but I still remember our earnest belief that meeting to talk about the future helped us create said future. I still believe it.

I remember only a few things that were planned around that table. However, I do remember saying that I wanted to learn to move on when I had learned my lesson instead of hanging on long past that point.

All these years later, I don't know that I'm any better at it.

I got rid of a pair of socks this morning. My toe had poked through the end. They were lumpy and ratty and puddled at the ankle more often than not. But they were an important pair of socks. They were my loon socks. My sister gave them to me in my Christmas stocking about 15 years ago. I wore them in Colorado to remind myself that an important part of me lived up here already--that this place where I now am would be part of my life always, though I didn't quite see how.

And yeah, they kept my feet kinda warm, as was their job. Until they got lumpy and ratty. And then the hole. "But they are my loon socks," I kept thinking as I pulled them from the dryer, then paired and folded them and stuck them back into my drawer. "My loon socks!" I would think when I put them on.

Finally, last night, I looked at my toe poking through the hole and thought, "Maybe it's time to let go of these."

Maybe? Ya think?

Functionally, they've outlived their usefulness.

Emotionally--well, I've been a permanent resident for more than four years now. My husband and I are celebrating our 29th lunar-versary next week. I'm here. I'm staying. So I probably don't need those socks emotionally, either.

It's not just socks. A particular friendship--is it time to let go or should I hang on, keep trying? A relationship with a specific organization--I let it go, but I miss it; is there a boundary I can set that will let me make contact again? Parts of me that I had to set aside during the move here--are they part of my past, or should I dust them off again? Can I get rid of something I'm currently hanging onto so that there's more room for them--or even for something new?

I put my loon socks into the hamper. I'll wash and dry them again, and then I will put them with the clothing to be donated--not because anyone else wants them, but because the organization sells what it can't use and eventually the rags make their way into paper. That's better than sending them (my loon socks!) to the landfill. I've taken their picture (something I learned from watching Clean Sweep), so I can look at them as often as I want, and they're only taking up bytes.

Sometimes I do hang on too long. And sometimes I still give up too soon. But I hold out hope that I'm better at making those decisions
--thanks in part to that breakfast group, many years ago.

Change of Mind(set)

I'm not a big fan of biz-speak but it is useful at times. "Mindset" is one of those words I suspect originated in a boardroom somewhere, but I like it. It describes that part of me that is hard to change. It's not so hard for me to change my mind. But my mind's default setting--that's something else again.

For those who remember the loon socks and issues of "hanging on too long," changing my mindset is a related-but-different phenomenon.

Recently, I was asked to appear in black slacks/skirt and white blouse. (Yes, this example is also about clothing. Deal.) Piece of cake. I have lots of white blouses from...from...huh. From back in the 90s, when I used to work in an office--and even then wore business casual and kept a couple of white blouses hanging around only because "they're a necessity." So said both Mr. Dress for Success and my mother, independently. Therefore, when I looked recently, I found a couple. One had yellowed. One had never fit. One was waaaaaay not something I would ever wear. So they've been disposed of.

Decades have passed since a white blouse was actually a necessity in my life. They're also not necessary now--I rarely am asked to wear white and this just request happened to fall at the wrong time of the laundry cycle to haul out a sweater.

So my point is this: It's one thing to live for decades and change your life circumstances several times. It's something else again to change your mindset, and, with it, all the crap you tote around with you.

And because the personal is political, I'll ask these questions:

• Is it time for the people in a country to the south to change their mindset around health care? New legislation is one thing--how about doing the mental work necessary to understand that people should not receive health care based on how much money they make? Imagine all the energy that would free up, all the risk and growth, if entrepreneurs knew that they could get sick without requiring an employer for health insurance.
• Is it time for a church to change itse mindset around fear? Perhaps the Catholic church could stop being so defensive about the wrongs its leaders have committed (and perpetuate). (Hey, I can dream.) Perhaps local congregations could focus on the best ways to particpate in defining and fulfilling their missions in the community, instead of being afraid the institution itself won't survive.
• Is it time for the government in this country to stop being afraid of losing power? Hint: The Catholic church may yet understand that hiding information only exacerbates any crimes from the past. Learn from their example. Be open. Try aiming for respect from Canadians instead of popularity. You may be pleasantly surprised.
• Is it time for a city government to change its mindset and approach to economic development? How about putting resources into creating a city that's safe, pretty, and clean? People will enjoy living here. They will create and attract companies--and perhaps, eventually, tourists. Because stalking tourists doesn't make anybody very happy and doesn't appear to be successful.

Now that I've prescribed changed mindsets for the world, I feel better. As if I've cleaned out a closet--perhaps even a mental one.