I am a furniture mover. My mother was a furniture mover, too. Every three months or so, I rearrange the furniture in my living room, my bedrooms, my kids' bedrooms. I don't know why I do it — I like change, I guess. And not just a change in where a piece of furniture sits but also a change in perspective.

But my mother lived what you would call the typical lifestyle of a fifties mom — had a career as a pharmacist in the Army, met and married my dad, received an honorable discharge, and began having babies.

She never worked again. I have worked my entire life.

So, though she did enter the military at 19 and she did become a pharmacist (which is considered a respectable career even today), she stopped her progression to marry and have children — to be a housewife.

Secretly, though, maybe she, too, craved change. Maybe that is why she moved the furniture around in her own house — to make it seem to appear that she was changing something.

In my world, I focus daily to change something or someone — to help, to assist, to further along something, anything. I want to move things around in my life and forward. I want change, and I like it daily.

When I do something different, try a new move, I am introducing myself to a change, I am moving outside of my comfort zone.

Sometimes we stay married simply because the idea of such a drastic change is more than we want to think about much less deal with. We stay in a marriage that is not fulfilling our spirit and our desire to progress, to move forward. We don't take the steps to change it. We're comfortable, maybe. We're certainly familiar. Known vs. the unknown.

But what are we waiting for? Why do we think it will change, he will change, if we wait just one more day?

Today I helped my friend move into her newly remodeled house. She'd changed the entire inside of this home. It had been your typical three-bedroom ranch. But she wanted more. She didn't just want to move the furniture around anymore. She wanted to change her entire perspective. She did, and it is magnificent!

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. My dear sisters, this is no way to live. I know because it is what I did for so many years.

After everything was moved in and out of the Pod, our backs were killing us. Our legs were aching. We were sweaty, filthy, and in some strange way reborn.

Life, death, and rebirth. D.H. Lawrence knew what he was talking about — definitely in touch with his feminine side. Take heart, dear women. Change must come.