I Hate Change

I really do.


When the powers that be rearrange the food in Giant Eagle I fall to me knees in despair.   My efficient zip in and zip out grocery shopping, with no time to waste and a job to be done becomes a processed food maze with dead ends and detours at every buggy turn. My product placement familiarity…knowing exactly where to find the often hidden capers…is gone, leaving me devastated. I am beaten.


Once they tried to ease my discomfort by placing little maps on the inside of the shopping carts, showing where I might find my favorite gourmet mustard. I guess some young consultant thought Giant Eagle Map Quest would be helpful to the middle aged woman decompensating in the produce aisle. Unfortunately they didn’t consider middle age eye sight. If the map is on the other end of the cart, this middle aged woman can’t even see it!


I take this all very personally…as you can see.


So when it became clear I needed to change the name of this blog, I couldn’t breath. I discovered that many therapists are as clever as I in naming their blogs. We therapists are so predictable. We ask, “How does that make you feel?” and we name our blogs Off The Couch. I found so many versions off this name I decided to do the unthinkable. Move toward change. Rename my blog.


At first I was excited. Self induced change is different from other induced change. I feel more in control. (We love the false sense of control, don’t we.) When I decided to divorce, sell the family home and move myself and Jena to Pittsburgh, the change was take to my bed scary, but it was me choosing the changes.


So too with my blog. I began the difficult and lengthy process of renaming. Here are a few I tossed around…


Mondays muse-made sense, I post on Mondays…but what if I want to post on Tuesdays?

Listen up missy-something my father often said…no one liked it, they said it was too bossy.

Its not polite to stare-something my mother often said.

Intentionally there, where?

Intentionally unexpected, true.

Hope to get there, please!

Unraveling certainty, I was certainly unraveling.


None of these felt right. (You agree?)


I began working with a Brander. Someone that names things for a living. She suggested using my last name. She said mine is interesting. Boswell. It has WELL and SWELL in it, which, she explained can catch the blog browsers eye.


I thought it was a really dumb idea. But, I agreed to give it some thought. “What adjective would I pair with it?” I wondered.


Then, it came to me. The same way my kids names came to me. Divine inspiration. Landon I heard in my head. Jena, with one N, I saw in my mind’s eye.


The perfect adjective.




Being Boswell. (Like it?)


Just like with Landon and Jena, I immediately knew it was right. I had found the capers.


I felt immense relief. I told myself if I was being Boswell, that was all I really had to do, right? Be myself. I felt such freedom, confidence, and permission. After all, if I was being Boswell I could say whatever, do whatever, be whatever I wanted. I would just be being me.


Then panic hit me with the often asked but seldom answered question.


Who the hell am I?


(I hate change, see where it leads?)

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