Conjecture

Closure is conjecture. In the experiences had, it has been increasingly interesting to me when that final exhale happens of truly letting something go. It is equal part healing and surprise.  The universe seems to have this algorithm determining when I’m ready to release or receive something.  The idea of closure is simply that.  An idea.  In truth, the way something has ended for me, it always catches me off guard.  It’s because there is always an absence of information.  Like the final piece of the puzzle that got found caught between the carpet and the floorboard, it is suddenly visible.  Then, poof! The completion of an experience is achieved. Looking at the full expanse of the image, it makes total sense now that the littlest detail has been added.  The exhale in that moment is so cathartic.

Patience is one of the single most annoying traits of the human condition. We all know the necessity of waiting sometimes. The lack of control in certain outcomes pursued is nothing short of infuriating.  “I can see the end! It’s right there! Just get there!” Again, that dirty universe sees something you don’t and there lies the requirement to wait until you see it, too. Moving in ignorance results in varying degrees of catastrophic results. I’ve learned that lesson ten times over. Because of past impatience, I have deep scars. These past five years however, the universe has shown a certain level of impatience with me!

A lot of time has been spent crying and disgruntled with the lamenting claim, “When is it going to be my turn?
” I watched friends and family pursue dreams and achieve goals. When would those things happen to me? I may have written about this in the past, but the message bears repeating, not only for myself, but for you. Turns happen when they’re taken. Opportunities have become more and more obvious to me. The universe has been cheering me on as I see them and get in line to take them. My life has moved at a sprint this past year. I’m tired, but years of preparing for this marathon is keeping me sustained.  I have been ready to take my turn.

Last October the exact limitation I had set on myself was lifted. I have my boys full-time. The permission to move away from Arizona had been given. It was now up to me to do it. Career supported it. Finances supported it. Family supported it. Friends supported it. There was zero inhibition in the advancement of that deeply rooted desire I had to leave and start totally fresh! The script of affirmations dramatically changed in that moment of realization. There was nothing stopping it, but me. Sobering moment to say the least.

Getting to Tennessee was a dream come true. Watching the world change outside the windows of the U-Haul kept a lump in my throat. Humility, grace, joy overwhelmed me and kept consistent tears in my eyes. Not a single sad tear. Pure elation. For months now, I still have that same feeling. I am spending nearly every single moment in a state of gratitude, happiness, and peace unlike anything I have ever had the pleasure of processing.

When I left Arizona, my affirmation was, “Own my own home within six months.” Everything in my world was in place to support this. It was up to me to support it back. A partnership with the universe was of absolute necessity to secure this dream. I started looking at the houses in the area that fit what the boys and I needed. I had a short-ish list of wants and needs the house needed to fill. The most important, was to have a house within walking distance of my daughter. A major reason we moved here was to be closer to her. The housing market becoming more and more volatile, shrank the options more and more. Then, I came across a house that met nearly every requirement. I was in love with it. It was around the corner from Isabelle, just under 2000 square feet, three bedrooms, closed in back yard, two-stories (laundry room upstairs!), lots of cabinets in the kitchen, large living room, nice mixture of flooring types throughout the floorplan, and a private patio off the master bedroom! This was it!

Having a conversation with a dear friend, the statement out of their mouth still resonates through my spine, “Go get your house, Emma.” I made phone calls the next morning. I already had a pre-approval letter from my lender. I set up an appointment with the selling agent and saw it that afternoon. Immediately, I could see my furniture in it. The natural lighting was perfect. The bedrooms were just right for the boys. The kitchen was better in person than in the pictures. The backyard was a perfect size for us. This was it. I put in an offer that moment. By that afternoon, I was under contract to buy the house.

My lingering ulcer nearly killed me with gorgeous anxiety. I wanted to vomit. But I wasn’t mad about it. You know, it’s weird when you feel positive anxiety for the first time. This was a welcome onslaught of nerves. A state park’s worth of butterflies took up residency in my stomach. In one fell swoop, I entered two months of barely sleeping. I wasn’t complaining. Lying awake at night and dreaming about these next steps felt so good.

The inspection and appraisal were completed within the first week. The appraisal required the full replacement of the roof. I got a brand-new roof (free to me) on a 15-year-old house! It delayed the closing by about four weeks, but I wasn’t upset about it. The initial closing date was set for 19 September and moved to on or before the 14^th of October. That gave me the chance to save a few more pennies to prepare for big costs of moving into the house.

The roof was replaced, and the post-inspection was scheduled. The agent scheduled the closing date for the 11^th of October. I cried. I cried some more. Those two months seemed to take forever, but now it was over. The wait was done. The patience to get this done right paid off and I was in my car driving to Hendersonville, TN to the title agency to sign the paperwork. In about an hour’s time, I would be in an office with strangers to close on the biggest accomplishment of my entire life.

That drive was intense. I want to really explain how much went through my head. The trees lining I-24 are one of the biggest reasons I wanted to live here. Fall weather marked every leaf with rich hues of gold, red, and orange. The evergreens created a framing compliment to the deciduous trees in their mix. The breeze crossing the freeway pulled leaves off and sent them across the traffic. My brain was fixated on every detail during that drive. I could smell, see, and hear everything in a way I had never processed. I saw colors more vividly. I could make out the details of the leaves as they fell. Even driving at 70 miles per hour. I couldn’t stop crying. The universe was imprinting a core memory.

I have wanted to write a book about my life. Mostly for me. But the biggest reason I haven’t committed to writing it is because I had no idea how to end it. What would be the last sentence? What was the happily ever after? There were ideas of what it looked like, but I wanted to write what I knew. I didn’t want to write without a purpose. What is the point of sharing my story if it doesn’t have a phenomenal ending of triumph? Was the climax finally finding the love that would last? Was it the moment my boys graduated from high school and moved enthusiastically into their next chapter? Then, this drive revealed it to me. The happily ever after was fully ending the life in Arizona and living for myself. Dependent on ONLY ME!

I was buying a house on my own. It was my credit and income sustaining this purchase. My name is the only one listed on the title! Man, that simple sentence has profound impact on my soul. After years of believing buying a house was done with a partner, that belief was being redefined with every inch my car travelled to the title agency. This was the epitome of independence. It struck me violently and the tears already watering the corners of my eyes, began to fall hard. I am on my own.

Closure manifested. The puzzle piece hidden between the floorboard and the carpet showed itself. I picked it up and placed it. I no longer needed another person to help me identify who I am. Despite effectively convincing myself that I didn’t need external validation to feel good about myself, this moment was the tangible evidence of that truth. Every moment, decision, and event lead to this exact experience. My shoulders and neck immediately cracked from the release of that weight. My posture, even while sitting in the driver’s seat, straightened instantly. I felt new creases of lines around my eyes as I smiled a smile I had never worn before. This was true self-satisfaction. I no longer felt sad about anything. The break-up I just went through no longer hurt. Nothing hurt. I was finally done grieving. That drive was intense.

No one was with me while I signed those papers. It was supposed to be only me. I deserved to feel every ounce of this jubilation without a single distraction. Good grief. If you have the chance to independently feel the pride of a job well done absent external input, do it! It was better than sex. Better than the best bite of food. Better than a fresh towel out of the dryer wrapped around you after a relaxing bath. More indulgent than a snuck bowl of ice cream in the middle of the night without having to share it with your kids. Full-blown onslaught of all the most positive emotions you can imagine coursing through you simultaneously.

I could have bought a house two years ago. Something kept me from it. There wasn’t a peace with the decision. So, I didn’t. Today, I now know why the peace wasn’t there. Buying a house in Arizona wasn’t my path. Truly rooting myself in the town that had both destroyed me and made me wasn’t right. Deep down, I always knew that my roots belonged somewhere east of the Mississippi River. Maybe Georgia, Alabama, or one of the Carolinas. I have felt a pull this direction for a while now. Seeing Tennessee for the first time in November of 2020, I could see myself living there. The universe forced my patience and helped guide me toward the path it had for me. Ever since the decision was made to move here, every single moment has been met with positive outcomes and I’m enjoying the peace that comes from patience.

It feels so very good to have so many good things to write about lately. I’m so tired of writing about the trials of life and the challenges that I’ve had to figure out. I feel all the comfort of finally reaching the end of years of grieving. I’m not depressed anymore. I’m not sad anymore. I’m just smiling all the time and finding the positive in damn near everything with a poetic ease. I love it. I can’t wait to see what else the world has for me to explore. It’s just me and these little men I’m trying to set a good example for. I want to show them what it’s like to have a mother who is at peace. I hope when they’re older, they remember this past year and recognize the significance of it.

None of this is luck. None of this is chance. This is all on purpose. The ups and downs were necessary for me to be in the best state of mind to accept these joys without hesitation. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Good Luck

When you get proficient at stuffing your emotions down into a cave so deep, you tend to forget that they’re there.  After a while those emotions melt into liquid and figure out how to seep past the rocks you’ve used to block the cave’s entrance.  That liquid looks for cracks in the seal and they begin to push through them.  It’s sneaky really.  You could be going about your business thinking you’ve got such a handle on everything because you’ve gotten so good at manipulating yourself.  Then, you’re sitting at a red light just long enough to breathe, and that one perfect exhale allows that build up emotional liquid to finally break through.  Suddenly, your eyes are filled with tears.  An explosion of memories associated with a thousand feelings bursts all over the inside of your windshield.  Blended between gorgeous and hell, the rage of that pent up procrastination of feeling doesn’t give you a choice but to pull the car over.

Screaming seems strange, but also perfect.  It’s overwhelming.  Where does it all release?  How are you supposed to react?  How are you supposed to simultaneously feel fear, passion, heartache, regret, joy, love, hate, thrill, satisfaction,… It’s impossible.  You can’t find a song to match the energy.  You can’t find a space to feel secure to break free.  You’re just on the side of a road in the middle of no where dry drowning in an emotional breakdown.  You can’t breathe, but for the first time you feel like you’re inhaling and exhaling at a rhythm that doesn’t choke you.  Your face looks ridiculous as it transitions between all those stifled emotions.  It feels like the next choice should be nothing less than being checked into an institution, because clearly, you’ve lost it.

I have full blown conversations with myself in my head while I sit on the patio at twilight and watch the lightning bugs start to flash their little joy all over the lawn.  This past month, I have felt EVERYTHING.  I have made so many excuses to not allow myself my humanity to feel.  It hasn’t been convenient and quite frankly, I’ve been too tired or terrified of what would happen if I gave myself the permission that I needed to truly accept some of the truths that I have learned not only about myself, but the world that I’ve created. 

I don’t recognize my reflection these days.  I have no idea who this person is that has shown up in Tennessee.  She’s familiar.  Her wrinkles are mine.  The dimple is mine.  But, there’s a new shape to her profile.  Her eyes don’t look the same.  Even as I write this, it makes me emotional to admit.  This chick in the mirror is the freest person I’ve ever seen.  Solid and aware.  She’s the person I’ve been trying to be for decades.  I’m introducing myself to her and the convergence of history and future are poetic.  I have no idea who I am turning into.  What I do know about her is that I’m excited more than I have ever been to get to know someone.  Its hilarious. 

My actual life is completely free of chaos.  The only chaos that exists is the internal reconciling with my choices.  The emotions I buried that are now spilling out all over my cheeks feel like a metamorphosis washing the past away and refreshing my spirit to move without needing any approval.  That cave is emptying rapidly and sifting through each memory associated with all those emotions are being handled and accepted.  I’m going through what I can only refer to as a period of grief.  I’m accepting that I’m not the same anymore.  I’ve evolved.  I don’t like saying I’ve “changed” because it just doesn’t feel robust enough of a verb.

This must be the beautiful mess that I’ve heard about in stories and songs.  There is absolutely nothing ugly about the safety I feel in my own skin.  It’s funny to me that I feel the need to refer to feeling my emotions as being a “mess.”  I am going to correct myself right now.  This is being me.  I feel things deeply, meticulously, irreverently.  It’s not fair to call that messy.  It’s me.  Good luck trying to keep up with the flow of this post.  I needed to write about this in its rawness.  Authentic. This is just a look into what my brain does frequently.  It’s exhausting, but it’s getting more comforting as I adjust to this person that showed up in Tennessee.  What I know now that I’ve processed a lot of those emotions is that I don’t want to withhold them again.  This new reflection of mine looks younger because she’s not holding anything back.  I’m not holding anything back.  Watch out world…

 

 

 

I Did It

Clouds drift across the hazy sky.  Little peeks of sunshine sneak through the moving clouds to reveal pockets of blue above.  The ground is wet and the eaves of the house drip from the recent rain.  Wet dirt and grass aromas fill my nose as I sit here reveling in my first southern rain as a resident. The humidity in the air does nothing but remind me that I am no longer where I used to be.  The smell of rain here is completely different than the desert.  For years, the smell of rain had a distinct smell.  The plants around the desert would resurrect at the mere droplet of moisture.  Watching the desert turn green during the monsoon season is beautiful to watch unfold.  Now, I live in an environment where the rain is normal and frequent.  The color of the terrain has changed for me so graphically that I’m not sure when the novelty will wear off.  I hope it never does.

This place is pure magic.  When you spend so many years idealizing a different climate and create such a detailed image in your mind, it’s a whole different kind of sobriety when it’s realized.  I’m intoxicated.  What is going on inside my head and heart is unlike anything I have ever felt.  My eyes are wide and ingesting every minute detail of the kudzu zines that climb nearly every cluster of uncleared trees.  During the evening and night, I feel like part of a fairytale watching the lightning bugs zip quickly across the wide, grassy lawns.  The air is heavy, even in the night, with the rich smell of grass.  My soul is fed a meal that it’s never tasted and is getting fat on the delectable flavors.

The journey here is more than just geography.  So, so much more than geography.  As we drove across the states, I couldn’t help but internalize the physical and existential comparisons.  The desert was dry and barren.  I was, too.  I had absorbed all the moisture in Arizona and still felt dehydrated.  There was nothing left for me to cultivate or nurture.  Deciding where to go from there was simple.  I knew I wanted something green and humid.  I knew I wanted rivers and lakes.  I knew I wanted to feel the density in the air that forces me to sit still and breathe deeper. This new space takes my breath away.

There is so much gratitude for the participation provided in supporting this move.  I was surprised as to who showed up to help.  I was humbled in the necessity to start new.  Validation is woven tightly in every single day of the last few weeks.  Never had I felt such an intense sensation of a major recycling of past mistakes happening again.  As the reality of history screamed in my face, I couldn’t move on fast enough.  I wanted to fast forward to here with every fiber of my being.  Before you consider the thought, I have not run from anything.  Truth is, I ran toward something.  I ran toward what my gut has been begging for.  Giving into what I truly want has been one of the most gratifying experiences to date.

It is worth noting that the drive from Arizona to Tennessee went without a single incident.  We didn’t suffer from any vehicle failure, vomit in the truck, doggy accidents, driving accidents, chipped windows, or any other myriad of possible issues.  When we pulled up to the house, I was instantly overwhelmed with emotion over how flawless it went.  “I’m here.”  We made it nearly 2000 miles without having any catastrophe.  That speaks volumes to the sustainment of this move.

I have the next two months without my boys.  The magnitude of this absence has yet to fully manifest.  Right now, I am not freaking out.  However, in about a week, I’m going to miss them terribly.  This is the first time I’ve been away from them for this length of time.  On top of that, they’re returning to me in a totally new space.  Their mother won’t be the same person.  Their home won’t be the same.  The school will be new.  The friends they had will have to be mourned and new ones made.  They are going to be adjusting to significant changes.  I am equal parts thrilled and scared of how they handle it. I am constantly worried I am wrecking them. There is a consistent reminder I must utter aloud sometimes to keep the focus.  “This change is going to help me be a better mother for them.”  The peace I have right now is something we are all going to have to adjust to.  I believe they will benefit from it.

Since the boys came to be with me full time, my world has been tough.  The job I love is very taxing on my mind and body.  Then there’s the time home with them as a single parent with the sole responsibility of keeping them on track.  No one can fully commit to a full-time career and a full-time parent.  Something will always suffer, and I’m not proud that my parenting has not been optimal with that truth.  Moving here is going to make that balance slightly easier to achieve.  Never underestimate the power of inner peace and the part it plays in how priorities fall in line.  I am excited about my evolution with motherhood.

A friend of mine messaged me yesterday and told me how much they loved my unapologetic happiness.  With social media being such a platform of facades, I am so proud to claim organic authenticity in what I post these days.  It’s so excited to share the journey.  It’s not boastful in intent to share how much joy I have right now.  If anything, I hope it inspires.  This opportunity did not just “happen” to me.  I am literally living the concept of hard work and preparation meeting opportunity.  The grooming the universe has put me through to get here has been excruciating.  So much loss.  So much heartache.  So much time put into something that never produced.  Turning my focus internally has been the key that has opened the door to walk through.  It was always there.  I just wasn’t ready.  When I finally met the state of peak fitness… the heavy lifting challenged my strength.  It’s so exciting to know what I control and how much I allow to weigh me down.

The weather has cleared up and the rain has stopped intermittently falling.  Now it’s just warm and overcast.  I’m not even a little embarrassed that I am so infatuated with the weather.  Every time the sky thinks about raining, I smile.  Everyone has said, “You’ll miss the desert and the months of warmth we have here.”  While that may be true from time to time, ultimately, I love where I am more than missing where I’ve been.  These coming months are still filled with possibility and just enough uncertainty to keep my curious and wondering.  Now that I’ve made it to this state, it’s time to plan for buying my first home.

Why

I’ve been getting asked “Why are you moving,” a lot these past few weeks. There’s also the inquiry as to the location. Of course, there’s a story. There’s always a story. But, the reality of it narrows down to this answer, “Why, not?”

Is there family there? Yes. Am I moving to be closer to family? Yes. Is that family staying there long term? Possibly not. Are you going to move when the family does? No. Do you know people there? Not really. What will you do if your family isn’t there anymore? Stay. Why? Because of the story. 

Never in a million years did I see myself staying in this town as long as I have. When I was in high school, my aspirations were to get an English degree, move to New York and get a Masters degree in journalism at Cornell. I wanted to find my angle and travel as much as possible to tell the stories. Alas, choices were made that changed the entire trajectory of that ideal. As the years passed, I continuously dreamt of finding somewhere different. More choices thwarted that desire. 

When I got divorced, I had the opportunity to move. The support of that endeavor lacking, I yet again made choices that locked me down for what seemed like the rest of my life. I’ve already written about how I’ve come to this moment. Today, I am less than 30 days away from this becoming real. So real that my emotions simply can’t keep up. Today, more than ever before I know why I’m doing this massive upheaval of everything I’ve been familiar with. Because I can. 

There are many folks I am going to miss tremendously.  There are so many core memories this place has imprinted. I am deeply in love with the joys and pains of these past 30 years. However, there’s something to be said about how much joy, fear, passion, and validation I’m feeling throughout my body at the mere mention of this journey I’m about to make. 

I am not scared to totally start over. In fact, the true person I am has been desperately seeking this kind of resurrection. Seeing the road behind me, the ashes and rubble piled sporadically on the sides of the road, only validates the resilience in my fervor to pursue better for myself. If I continue to stay where I am, I fear I will only secure a repeated history lesson. 

If I stay, I will cease to grow to the potential I’m still aching to see in who I am. Challenge is the only way I grow. Adversity is the only way to expose my truest forms of vulnerability. Opportunity taken is the only way to see if I am prepared. Struggle is the best way to elevate my perspective and enhance the clarity of choice. It’s being at a crossroad that I’ve created that is really forcing me to realize how much control I truly possess in my outcomes. Holy crap is it intimidating to stare the universe in the face and say, “Hold my beer.”

I turn 42 tomorrow. All truth, tomorrow is not going to be an easy day. I’m not looking forward to it. I’ve had crippling anxiety preparing for it. I’ve lost sleep and my nerves are shot. I’m exhausted to a degree I have never felt. My head and heart are in unity despite all this chaos coursing through my central nervous system. I’ve been on the cusp of tears for weeks because of this build up of so many components converging simultaneously and demanding attention. As I acknowledge these feelings and cope through them to the best of my ability, there is this metronome steadily beating in the back of my mind. “Get to Tennessee.”

Why not take an opportunity to do something drastic when it shakes your hand and pulls you in for a hug? Why not throw every ounce of trepidation out the window and trust the wisdom life has given? Why not take heed to the voice telling you exactly what you’re supposed to do? Why not give into the truths you know? Why not trust your strength? Why not take a step towards the version of yourself you’ve been silencing? 

There is such a calming peace at the center of this storm raging around me right now. As the thunder attempts to make me shudder, the peace at the center hasn’t failed to consistently pull me in and shelter me. Focus. Lots of focus. Temptation has slid into my DMs, and I have hit delete. I know that this choice I’m making is going to fulfill me in ways I can’t understand right now. I’m pushing through the chaos and maintaining focus on the version of me that awaits after the storm. 

I know exactly what happens to me if I don’t take this opportunity to move. Why I’m the hell would I want to continue to live in such predictable monotony? I’ve outgrown this book. I’ve read it a few times. It’s boring now. Time to set up a new plot. This is a delectable bittersweet choice to take on. But, why not?