Why do we love Before and After pictures? Maybe because it represents change we feel we can control, change that we really wanted. The most difficult change to accept is that which we don't choose for ourselves.

This is my 1970s kitchen. It has been an OK kitchen. Several years ago I started watching home improvement shows on TV. My favorite is Fixer Upper.  My slight distaste for these laminate cabinets began to increase and I developed the desire to remodel this 70s kitchen.  There was never a good time, though. We couldn't afford it. It would be a mess. 

Much like relationships that we need to work on, it was easier to coast along with the laminated outdated kitchen, which also did not have enough room for all the good things I wanted to put in it. 

Even though there were features of the kitchen I didn't care for, I was accustomed to it. 

Sometimes I would envision a new kitchen, and superimpose the images of that new kitchen onto my old kitchen. That exercise made me feel  both better and worse. Better because I could see it was a realistic goal, worse because I doubted it would ever happen. Things just weren't quite right in my life to start a remodeling job. But the laminate covering the wall really irritated me. In fact, I knew there was a window behind the laminate that had been completely covered up. Knowing that a lot more light could enter the kitchen made me feel hopeful. But I'd have to tear down some walls to see it. Break some things, crack some things open.





















A Buddhist slogan is "Abandon any hope of fruition."  I was introduced to this slogan in Pema Chodron's book Comfortable with Uncertainty. This slogan about letting go of hope really threw me. I thought hope was good. Hope is good, right?  In Lesson 77, Pema discusses the unskillful use of hope to escape the present moment. Using hope when we feel the present moment isn't good enough, or the present thing is lacking. It makes us unhappy with what we have and who we are in the present moment.

I thought, "Well, what if what I have in the present moment isn't very good?" 

This slogan doesn't mean that I need to suffer. In the present moment if I hold my hand to a hot stove it will be unpleasant. Should I hope that it will end? Of course. But the point of the slogan is to not put my hand on the hot stove in the first place. When I stop creating and allowing pain and suffering in my life I don't need to hang on so ferociously to hope that things will change. My hand isn't on the hot stove. I'm pretty OK with where I am.

When I was unexpectedly terminated from my job after 21 years, I was devastated. A great part of my identity was tied up in my career. With the institution I worked for, what I did, where I traveled. I made a lot of sacrifices for the institution during those 21 years. Missed a lot of family time, sometimes worked 60 or 70 hour weeks. I was credited with bringing millions of dollars in research funding to the institution. For a time, I was appreciated. The appreciation and respect from others made me feel good about myself. 

Then the senior administration at the institution changed. The new folks didn't know who I was and didn't care. They made drastic changes in the way funds were used, which I pointed out (several times) were not in keeping with the rules of the contract. I knew the contract better than anyone. I was queen of this universe, and felt that no one should step in and tell me how to run things. Then I discovered serious scientific misconduct which I reported. A few days after confronting my supervisor, I was called into a meeting and fired. Viciously fired. Banned from the institution. Not given my retirement benefits. Yet they admitted it had nothing to do with my performance, which had been consistently rated as outstanding. I was blacklisted within my profession and could no longer obtain employment.

Then I sustained a life-changing injury to my ankle, and my marriage of 32 years ended. My world fell apart and I had no hope. There was nothing to do but keep moving, one day at a time.

Next: Remodeling begins