Chapter 10?
Several years ago, before my mother died, I was out to dinner with her, my brother, and his husband. We were chatting, as we do over meals, and I mentioned that I think of my life in chapters, as if I am a character in a book. At the time, I believed I was in chapter thirteen, though I don’t remember my thought process. We had fun that evening, each of us writing down our chapters on cocktail napkins. I remember that despite my mother being 36 years older than I, she was only in a single-digit chapter—was it eight?
Last week, I did the exercise again and decided I was in chapter nine. Not sure how or why I lost four chapters. However, today brought about what might be the foundation for chapter 10. Nine days ago, I listed my house for sale, and I will know tomorrow if I sold it. I was “wheeling and dealing” throughout the day, and we are in the midst of working out the last of the details. I am counting on a sunk cost fallacy—they've invested too much time and energy to walk away now. The closing date would be May 1, which is earlier than I had hoped. I wanted to be home for my birthday, but I can adapt.
I've moved dozens of times in my life, and for years, I would always hold onto my cardboard boxes because boxes are expensive and I knew I'd be moving again. But the past two times I moved, I threw them away because I actually thought I was staying. Unfortunately, I had to order boxes again today. Still expensive!
When I moved back to the South four years ago, I joked about writing a book called “I Hope I Die in Mississippi,” but that feeling didn’t last; it never does. Maybe it’s the ADHD, but I get bored after a while and want a change of pace. I’ve realized that when my life gets to a point where I can predict what’s going to happen from year to year, I seek to make a change. I enjoy the mystery and want to keep it that way.
I was deeply touched this week when a friend of mine said during a phone call, “I think that’s a wonderful way to live.” Sometimes in life you feel seen, and those moments are good for the soul.
Every time I move, I think about the why behind it, which brings me to David Hume. He’s a philosopher I recently learned about who suggests we move away from the idea of cause/effect and instead focus on patterns, which I found incredibly thought-provoking because I spend a great deal of time trying to understand the cause/effect of psychological problems—my patients’ and my own. That said, my ideas about why I move so much—ADHD, nomadic ancestors, flight response—may not be causes at all. They may simply be labels I’ve used as I’ve observed patterns. It’s not necessarily the truth.
As I was researching Hume online, I came across this helpful analogy:
Think of a sunrise:
You have seen the sun rise every morning of your life.
You expect it to rise tomorrow.
But you have never seen the "cause" of the sunrise. You have only seen the pattern.
Hume says your expectation is based entirely on that observed pattern—not on any logical proof that the sun must rise.
In a way, having “no logical proof” reminds me of something I often say to my patients—that therapy is just a bunch of guesses. We can’t really know the “causes” of why we ended up like we did. When we seek out the “why” behind our behavior and come up with answers, it’s just throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. When we remove the need to understand why, as Hume suggests, we can simply turn the page in our book of life and get excited for the new chapter.
Photo credit: Susan Mah