At a meeting a few weeks ago, one of the things we discussed was clearing your mind of all the other things in life that are distracting and concentrating on being present. It was a moment of clarity, a balancing, a reminder to not get caught up in the future but to focus on only the things that are within my control, and I’ve been trying really hard to stay true to that. Be present.
When I got offered my new job, our life was thrown into a tailspin of questions, of to-do lists, of realtors and moving trucks and driver’s licenses and road trips and selling furniture on Craig’s List and packing boxes labeled "BOOKS (SCARY)" in hopes that when I pull them out of storage in a few months, I have even a remote chance of recalling what is inside them. We cleaned out our house, we put it on the market, and I started to pack.
That doesn’t mean that I have lived every moment in perfection and boy oh boy, is talking about your life on the internet the best way to be constantly reminded of your mistakes, your imperfections, your failures. I’ve been caught up by the speed that everything is happening, how rapidly we've had to make decisions about our new life, time management as the days ticked down. On Monday night, after a long and frustrating day, I sat on a curb in Chinatown and cried like a baby because I couldn’t make the application that pays for parking work and the credit card machine was broken. I know I’m not actually losing my mind, it’s just that the emotion of everything I’m going through is building up and releasing and building up and releasing and I’m handling it in the best way I know how. Certainly not in the best way possible, but I've never been one to be graceful. I drop wine glasses and get huge bruises on my shin that I can't recall the source of and accidentally offend people with my big mouth, especially when I am pissed off and drunk.
The plan that we have worked out is that I am going to Colorado, now, alone. I am not moving alone, I have three of my best friends with me and we are having a grand old time hauling half of my house in a U-Haul trailer (FINALLY) at 55mph across the many wide states of the midwest.
But my family, my loves, they are home in DC, working and waiting for our house to sell. I got sent off the front to start my new job and find our next nest, the place where I will make eggplant pizza and set up my trainer and paint the walls blue, where we will be happy for the next many many years of our life. And we are hoping that all of this lines up by January, because I’m not sure how much I like my life without my superstar husband and my sweet doggies that step on my stomach and chew on my arm and push their heads into my lap and sleep peacefully. I have lovely friends that live in Boulder and I am sure I will make many more, but for right now I am dreading the moment that these girls board their planes back to the east coast, because they are the last thread that connects me to the life I had there.
The next few days, weeks, months, they are all full of uncertainty. There are times when I am going to be sad, there are times when I am going to be angry, there are times where I am going to make poor choices and let my hotheaded emotions get the best of me. But when I hugged my husband in the driveway before we
almost crashed trying to back out left, he whispered in my ear, "Don't forget that you are doing this so we can have a better life." A better life, not just rocking back and forth in the comfortable rut that we have created, but growing uncomfortably in hopes of searching for more joy. We are being selfish, we are chasing our dreams, and it will be a bumpy road.
Another one of my dear friends recently posted something about strength, vulnerability, and grace. She teaches yoga so her thought process differs than mine, but I recently returned to the mat myself and felt a stronger connection than I expected to that part of my life. When I was in class, I felt some emotions that I usually push away threaten to overwhelm me, and instead I embraced them. This week I have embraced the sadness, the tears, but also the excitement, the thrill of change. I am torn about how to feel about the twists in the road I am heading down, but as she explains, I need a strong connection to the earth, an engaged core, and an open heart. The community I am leaving is one that has both created powerful friendships and been a source of bitterness, pettiness, and anger. And as the miles unwound in front of me as I traveled west, surrounded by friends snorting with laughter, I could feel so much of the past just drop away. My head is clear, I laugh easily.
There is peace here.