Are you unhappy about moving forward or just an African Violet?

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A year ago I had been up rooted. I had to sell my house and leave my beloved Amherst Island. Although it was a good move  I have felt that I was a woman divided by two cities. Toronto and Yarker. (okay a city and a hamlet)

Toronto where friends are and Yarker where family is. In Yarker I have a beautiful apartment on 12 acres of land.  In Toronto I have a friend lend me an apartment in midtown on a regular basis.  A good situation indeed.

No reason to not feel blessed. So why such a winter of discontent?

A litany of complaints, ” I am moving, I hate this place, nobody likes me, and I don’t fit in, so what is my life about?”

Then about a month ago, I don’t know why, a switch flipped and the war in mind stopped. The immigration papers got stopped. I felt fine, like I was lucky  gal. Good neighbours in the country. Great friends in the city. I suddenly felt content to buy some new things for the apartment.

It was odd as if my mind just didn’t have any better way to pass the grey winter. Some people go south, I get itchy feet.

When I told my friend Shirley this she said,

” I guess you’re like an African Violet.”

She explained that when you transplant an African Violet it takes a year to get used to its new surroundings– it has a series of false starts and often looks like it is dying , then about year in it gets used to the new locale and begins to thrive.

I have killed ever plant I’ve owned, including African Violets, but I like the sentiment and googled the meaning behind African violets (click here) Some say they signify faithfulness and “I’ll be true” which I like.

It implies that one who is faithful is not likely able to change quickly. And that is me. So I guess I am  anAfrican Violet ( on some gassy nights a little bit stink weed thrown in.)

This is likely why people say don’t make any big changes in the first year after a death, a divorce or giving up an addiction. Don’t move. Don’t  leave a lover or take one. Put the time in and let yourself get acquainted with where life has transplanted you.

How long has it taken you in the past to adjust when you’re uprooted?  Are you an African Violet or more like mint that spreads like wildfire? (COMMENT BELOW)

( TELL A BETTER STORY: If you’re a writer, use the African Violet metaphor,  and  write a story about someone who has been uprooted and transplanted in to a new reality. Was it a year before they felt normal? Or much, much longer?)

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