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.