For every person, when we decide to set sail on our old life, to find a place of new vision and an emotional home, the hardest part is always leaving sight of shore. To leave the known is the most terrifying thing a human brain can imagine. All the fear bells start sounding off. Every worry comes into play at full volume in your head.
No matter how beautiful and exciting this new land and new life is, your neuronet has lost almost all it’s connections of the familiar and goes into shock.
Yes, there is a father and a grandfather that I recognize, that I am getting to know, and there are a few pieces of daily touchstones, and clothing and books, thank God. But for the most part, I am alone and everything is new. I didn’t move with a familiar job in a new location, or with my partner or family. I sold my car, am in the process of selling my old house and sold or gave away half of my belongings. (I am not the only woman I know who is doing this.) Cutting ties, forging over new rivers, breaking off the painful old, setting up stakes in a new location and investing and building before you ever know if it’s going to ‘work.’ The open space created has been wonderful to behold…and unsettling.
I admire the amazing women I know that move to Africa and India and Spain and appear to have no problem being ‘at home in the world.’ I am rattled. Even though I still feel deeply connected to my Soul Sisters, they are not here to hold my hand and breathe with me when the fear storm hits.
I have to admit, I feel lost at sea.
Every few years I evaluate and re-evaluate what I want and where I’m going. I burrow deep to look long into my heart and to see a future vision. And sometimes…I get stuck out there in NeverNeverLand. This time, it’s even bigger, as I look at my life as a midpoint. Visiting nursing homes and graveyards will do that to you. I want my life to have meaning and I want my enjoyment of it to look like someone just lit my pants on fire.
For a freelancer, there’s always reestablishing business in a new place. That’s fun. I’m sending out all the bottles with love notes in them and watching for signs. I’m listening and watching and feeling for what is appropriate and wonderful now, in this place, and what is flowing naturally. I’ve done this before, but now everything is new. Every relationship is being evaluated, every habit configured around MY NEW LIFE and what I want it to be. Everything is shaken. I live in a town noted to be small and poor, yet my soul says ‘Home.’
How am I handling the fear storms?
I remember that I’ve never gone without. I remember that I always meet the most amazing people everywhere I go. I remember that if I focus on what feels good and staying in my genius, that everything I need will come to me at the proper time. I know to discount that I’m impatient, that I worry too much what my Dad thinks, and that this time is a time to rest and recover and that all of this is perfectly natural and normal. I am returning to prayer and being reminded to ASK.
My hope is in the signs (and there have been many) and watching my growth. The questions are, “Am I learning what I need to grow?” and “Am I listening and watching for signs?”
I have deconstructed my life and now I want to make sure that I am building it again on a beautiful, expansive, firm foundation. I want to have enough land to build a bigger life in the best location with a better view.
I have a new friend that I admire very much. He says to me that I worry too much about the future, and that I should just roll with it, enjoy each day and see what happens. I always scoff and say, “But Dude! We have to set our intention! We have to know what we want and ask for it!” (I think he’s of the notion that ‘God’s in control and will make it happen at the perfect time.’)
Today, realizing the amount of stress I’ve been putting on myself to make all these decisions, and to do it right the first time, and be clear and specific and focused and intentional, I have the sticky thought that maybe, just maybe, he is right. The truth of his words curls around my brain and I think, “Maybe this is the message the Great South has to teach me.”
Maybe just enjoying the ride, and staying in the moment, is the best way to ride out the storm. Maybe, in fact, that is the best way to do life.
I don’t know how you handle your fear storms, but I’d love to hear it. (Please comment in the blog comments below.)
May your signs come to you in pretty bottles or olive branches from the mouths of doves!
Love, blessings and beauty!
Auretha the Adventurer!