“The measure of intelligence is the ability to change,” – Albert Einstein.

Some years ago, shortly after a spectacular crack-up while alone on my 90-acre farm with a beautiful border collie, 36 sheep, and an old donkey,  I realized I needed to change, or I might as well die.

I chose live.

I had to change things that were not small but loomed large in my life, like everything, especially me. So I started work and am still working.

Change is powerful; it can spark miracles or eat them alive.

Change is the magic elixir or the kiss of death.

Some medical people – doctors, love health talk – call it the wellness journey, but I cringe at the term. It’s awful sappy, and it doesn’t capture the experience.

Wellness Journey is way too goo-goo and squishy a term for the meaning and power of health – mental and physical. I’m not on a wellness journey. I’m on a survival journey. I’m on a sense of life journey.

It took a lifetime to screw up my “wellness” of body and mind. It’s taken a decade to make some significant changes in the journey.

I know my time is running out, and one of the challenges of my remaining life is to see how far I can go.

I may have been screwed up, but I was never a quitter. It feels like I’m just getting started.

I always liked to tell myself that I liked change and was good at it, but I soon learned that fundamental change is as complex as necessary.

Changing is different than actual change. It’s easy to move, quit, hide or run, rationalize and lie to oneself.

All of that involves changing.

Real change is much more complicated.

It takes commitment, patience, a willingness to fail and experiment, pride, stubbornness, and a desire to listen to others. Above all, it requires authenticity and honesty.

And encouragement and support.

On the way, I knew I would fail, and I do all the time.

I stumble all along the journey, at least in my mind,  and my progress or success seems to depend on whether I get up and keep trying, or sink in despair, quit.

We are trained to think of ourselves as bad people when we get into trouble, have an accident, fail in our goals, lose relationships, have accidents.

I remind myself every day that I am a human who wants to be a better human.

It’s hard to see ourselves as the good people most of us want to be. When I mess up, I feel shame.

Those failures are essential for change because there will be a lot of failures, many mistakes, lots of shaming. Failures are the prelude to success; in one way, it’s as simple as that.

When I learned what I shouldn’t do, I realized what I should do. People who can’t bear to fail will fail.

A lifetime’s habits and behaviors can take many years to alter and much commitment.

More than 40 percent of people who diet quit in two or three weeks. In some medical practices, 60 percent of people with diabetes would rather eat sugar than give it up, and many refuse to take insulin because they don’t like the idea of injecting needles into their arms.

I know too many women and men who stay in loveless and empty marriages because the idea of getting a divorce and being on their own seems worse to them than spending a lonely and loveless life.

I know people who remain in empty and meaningless lives because they can’t or won’t change.

I was one of them.

I needed to change.

I had no idea how to handle money, love or be loved, sustain relationships, stop running and move to avoid myself. I had no idea how to work through things, only fight and storm out.

I remember sending all of the animals of Bedlam Farm away to a Vermont farmer one day in 20o9. I was falling apart, and I felt I could not take care of them. I just gave up. I hated myself every day they were gone.

A year later, I asked the farmer to bring them all back, which he did. Lulu wouldn’t look at me for two or three years – donkeys never forget – but when Maria came to live on the farm, she got over it, sort of.

I decided to make a stand. I was not going to live the rest of my life in this way.

To change that, I guessed, would take the rest of my life. I was right. I’m 74 and not nearly done.

An analyst and a therapist have told me at separate times that they had never met a patient who was undertaking so much change at so advanced an age. I gulped and wondered how I could get through it. I wanted to share some of the things I learned.

What did everyone else know that I didn’t?

Why would I do better than anyone else?

First, I knew I had to be realistic. It took decades to form my fears, rages, and behaviors, from food to sleep to health care to friendships and family. I wasn’t going to change overnight, or in years, or perhaps ever.

Real change does not happen overnight. It requires both a long view and a love of the now. I needed support, but most of it had to come from me.

Nobody else could make me do it or do it for me.

I planned to support and encourage myself and give myself some rewards.

One of them was a camera. That changed my life quickly. Another was the blog, which gave me freedom.

The other was finding love, which the spirits did for me. Another was my beautiful dogs.

Substantial change is never easy, not if I want it to last. Losing weight is not about dieting.

It is about living, about my heart, my life, my work, my love. I measure every small success – every ounce, every friend, every bit of change, every old lost habit – as a success, with weight and every other shift.

It took me 30 years, at least, to stop fighting with strangers online, and when I realized this was my problem, not theirs, I began to change. That was a few months ago.

I’m almost there. I never gave up. There is always time for a change; there is always a good reason for most of us to change; I never hid behind being too old or dyslexic.

It’s painful to give up the things I have always relied on – my favorite foods, my excuses for not exercising, my slick and foolish refusal to confront my health.

But I see each thing I give up as a trade for something better.

I give something up; I get something; I lose something; I win something: my health, my peace of mind, my wonderful marriage, my brain, my work, a strong heart.

It does take commitment. It does take motivation. And most of it has to come inside. It’s my choice; pain is inevitable. Suffering is a choice.

I will fail. I often fail. I will always fail. Every failure is an opportunity to get up and try again, do better, and convince myself that I can finish what I start. I am human; I am no superhero. I weaken, I hide, I rationalize.

I’ve lied, to myself and others.

But I always get back up on the horse, and each time I do, I am stronger and more determined.

I am sleeping better than ever, eating better than ever, losing more weight than ever, meditating every day, going to the gym, and walking almost every day of the week.

There are no more snacks in my house, no more sugar or processed or provably unhealthy foods in my body.

Why did I do that to myself? Why do so many others?

I figured out which behaviors I had to change and picked them off one by one. The trick for me was creating small targets and picking them off one by one. Success is a tonic, a source of strength.

I’m nowhere near done; I have my arrogant streaks, but I am never complacent about change. It humbles me, reduces me to jelly, thrills me, and pokes me in the butt.

Change is a  hallmark of the hero journey, and I have had magical helpers who appear to guide me along the way – doctors, Maria, animals, friends, therapists, strangers, teachers, readers.

They seem to appear when I let them and when I learn to listen to them.

I think hard about where those behaviors came from.

If I need help, I get help. Help helps.

I refuse to whine or complain or speak poorly of my life. I don’t blame other people for my troubles. I don’t dump my shit on others or take theirs in. I build boundaries wherever I need them to feel solid and safe.

And I brainstorm in silence, in contemplation, in meditation; that is where I seek and find the truth about myself and face it.

Change is unique on the earth to human beings.

No dog or donkey or bird can consider their lives and change. That is a sacred gift I chose not to throw away.

It’s easier to not even try to change. Losing weight, like doing good or working to be healthy, is not about wellness for me; it is about mindfulness.

The more aware I am, the easier it is to change and see what change can do for me.

I’m not usually hooked into the Oprah world, but I have to credit her. Sometimes she puts it together: “The greatest discovery of all time is that a person can change his future by merely changing his attitude.”

Amen.