Hi. So, things kinda suck right now.
Actually, they really really suck.
Here’s what some of my conditioning is telling me: You’re doing this to yourself. You’re overreacting. You’re not trusting yourself. You’re full of doubt. Your New Year’s intention this year is about releasing doubt. Man, you really are fucking that one up.
There’s a tiny voice saying, “Ah, an opportunity to release doubt and soar to new heights.” That’s my full intention this year: “I release doubt and soar to new heights.”
Not soaring. Yet.
Another tiny voice is saying, “This is scary as shit, but maybe, just maybe, this is the way to get where you are going.”
Where am I going? Home. A home, of my own, is calling right now, in the most powerful way. It’s bigger than getting my book published (which, up until now, was pretty high on my desire list). For me, the two do not go hand in hand. Writing I do for the love. Getting published will be the icing on that cake. Home is home.
You might be wondering, what really really sucks?
Rats and water damage and mold and poor construction and a property manager who would dare to suggest to me that fungus is not mold. That a rat infestation in the structure of my home is a common thing and I just need to run out to the hardware store and pick up a trap. An exterminator is not necessary. Move back in. Start paying your rent again. The contractor working on the place says it’s fine. Not hazardous. My instincts, the ones that are screaming not ok, are being challenged. I wonder if fear is in the driver seat. I stop trusting myself.
When fear is in the driver seat, no matter what decision I make it’s the wrong one. Fear is not only “Should I stay or should I go?” Fear is “Who do I believe? Who do I trust? Me or the “expert”?, Fear is ” what’s the worst thing that could happen?” Fear wants me to think about that all the time, the worst thing that could happen. I kindly strap fear into the passenger seat
I check in with the mentor. I check in with the one who is scared. Here is what I get:
Maybe. Maybe you created this scenario and it’s leading you exactly where you want to be. The scared part says: please stop making me wrong. I’m doing the best I can. I don’t trust this person telling me my home is safe.
With that, I’m packing up all my stuff and putting it in storage. I haven’t found a new home, yet. I’m kinda homeless — I won’t be without a shelter; I’ll have a place to live. But I will be without a true home for a while.
For me, the feeling I am reaching for when I think about home, is safe. A place where I feel cozy and expansive, with trees and a yard! I’ll feel inspired to create, and cook, and grow food. Friends gather here. I’m surrounded by things that make me smile and feel happy because I love them. Beauty.
I can hold my vision and hold space for the one who is scared.
Scared. Worried I’m overreacting. This looks nothing like what I’ve been calling in. In fact losing my home to get home — makes no sense. This is not a trade I tell whomever might be listening (my sweetie). This is not home for freedom. Or home for more money in the bank — though for a while it will mean more money in the bank and that is useful.
And I’m doing it anyway (moving out without knowing what will happen next). When I’m able to release doubt, a layer of suffering gets removed. The suffering lies not in the mess of my home (that sucks and is frustrating and sad) but right now, it’s doubt that’s kicking my ass.
I’m thinking this may be an incoherent jumble. And that’s ok.
Time to yell PLOT TWIST and get on with my packing.
Stay tuned! The adventure continues.