Posts Tagged With: mental health

the power of a to-don’t list

Do y’all know about I Weigh?
Founded by Jameela Jamil in March of 2018.
Mission statement: “I WEIGH CONNECTS, EMPOWERS AND AMPLIFIES DIVERSE VOICES IN AN ACCESSIBLE WAY”
Check ’em out.

Anyway…
I love I Weigh’s insta, and this post spoke right to me.

I’ve been so tired in the last couple of weeks.
Feeling trod down and worn slap out.
And I realized I’ve been doing some of the things on this list without even realizing.
Especially numbers three four and five, but also numbers six and eight too.
Actually the only thing on this list I haven’t done is number 7.

I sometimes forget I can create a don’t do it list just as easily as I create my myriad do it lists.
I suspect we all forget that from time to time.
I also suspect it’s mostly women who forget.
Though, I don’t see why men couldn’t too.

Think about how you spend your days.
Think about your life.
Are your lists chock full of things you do that aren’t what’s best for you?
Are your lists balanced to keep you in a healthy place?
Do you have the luxury of having list that are all do’s and no don’ts?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , | 7 Comments

the worst truth

Thing 1 and I were in the car Wednesday morning. I’m not exactly sure how it started, but we were talking about how to manage anxiety and it turned into how Mommas always prioritize your best interests even if (or especially when) it’s hard to understand.
Thing 1 said something to the effect of: Even years fourteen through eighteen when I thought I hated you, I always knew you’d do whatever it took to help me, to take care of me and keep me safe.
Then she said, “That’s why I came to you when I was cutting myself and wanted to die.”

I had an immediate rush of relief. I always worried that when she came to me for help and ended up in the hospital for two weeks she felt like I betrayed her instead of helped her.
She told me while being in the psyc hospital was in itself traumatizing, she never equated the two. Her asking for my help was one thing. Being in the hospital was another thing entirely. They’re separate in her thinking.

I didn’t know this at the time, but three or four months prior to her coming to me, she talked with her dad. When she shared with him how she was feeling and that she was hurting herself, he “looked away from me, stood up, walked out of my room and shut the door behind him.”
He left her sitting there after she told him she wanted to die. (Everything I think and feel about this is a different topic for a different day, but let me assure you, ain’t none of it good.)

In the car that morning, she talked about how it only made it worse for her. She felt like if her own dad didn’t love her enough to help her it only reinforced all her negative feelings about herself. She began cutting herself more and actively planning how to end her own life.
Then she said something that literally took my breath away.
She wondered aloud if her father would have let her die in order to hold it over my head for the rest of our lives. She imagined him saying to me, “She killed herself because she hated you and it’s all your fault.”

I opened my mouth to deny her wondering.
I opened and closed my mouth five times before I finally said, “I want to believe he loves you more than that, that he’d rather you be alive than hold it over me forever.”
But I knew in my heart of hearts that she was right. And sadly, she knew it too.

Then she said, “Would he really want me dead to punish you? Don’t you think he loves me more than that?”
To which I replied that I do think your father loves you in the way he can love. However, his grief would fade. The pain of losing you would ease. But he could get pleasure from blaming me that you were so unhappy and hated me so much that you took your own life. All the pleasure, absolutely none of the effort.

Here’s the worst truth.
I didn’t know she talked to him before she came to me.
He never told me she came to him. Not when I told him I was taking her to the ER. Not the two weeks she was in hospital. Not when we had family sessions with the therapist when they released her from the hospital.
I only found that out because she told me in the last couple of years.

Had she taken her life I would never know that he could have done something to prevent that. I would have lived the rest of my life thinking that when we struggled the most I couldn’t keep my baby safe.

In Conscious Discipline there is a ‘safe keeper’ ritual in which the adult in the home or classroom (or wherever) tells the kids, “My job is to keep you safe.” to which the kids reply, “Our job is to help you keep us safe.”
My daughters knew I was their safe keeper.
They still know this.
But this ritual is different now.
They are their own safe keepers and I am the one helping them.

I want so desperately to reassure her that her life is worth more than her father’s desire to “win” against me. I all honestly can’t do that. As soon as she spoke I knew she was right.
She called this ‘a startling revelation’ then told me, “As soon as I said the words I wanted to suck them back in because I knew they were true.”

I’m not really sure why I’m writing this for y’all to read.
Partly because it was simply too big for me to keep inside. Partly because I thought writing it would help me understand it better.
I feel confident in saying I don’t understand it any better.

I hate that my girl experienced this time in her life.
I hate that I experienced it.
But I am awed and humbled by the healing we’ve experienced in the years since.
I am awed and humbled by the words we share.
By the love we share.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

energy alignment and evolving spaces


I came across this on instagram the other night. It struck a chord in me as I immerse myself in packing.

I like how it says not ‘aligned with who you are anymore’.
I like the idea of your space evolving as you do.

I’ve been thinking about this concept as YBW and I leave this house to live in the new house.
The new house will begin with who we are together, where and how we are aligned now.

A new alignment will not change who we were individually, and who we were together. It doesn’t change how we lived in previous dwellings individually and together. It simply shifts the focus to who we are in this moment in time.
This is who we are now.

I believe creating new alignments does not dishonor who we used to be. I believe it is a reflection of who we are now.
I believe we can support and keep each other safe through this process.
I believe we can encourage each other’s alignment with love and respect.

Each of us choosing what we bring to our new home. How we choose to live together in this new environment.
What we bring with us has it’s own energy. We owe it to ourselves and each other to choose that energy carefully.

I’m hopeful as we continue to pack our things we choose mindfully.
I’m hopeful that the energy we bring into our new environment is positive and promotes growth.

Eight months ago, I wrote about being mindful how I curate my environment.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

That’s the kind of energy I’m all about creating an alignment with.

Categories: around the house | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

feeling hopeful with Plato

Last week I read about someone’s journey as they do the work of self. I read about how they faltered, how the work is so much harder when the pain becomes so great they need to escape it. Oftentimes that involves crawling to the bottom of a bottle.
This got me thinking…
The pain is so great that stopping seems the only answer. The problem there is the constant stopping and starting again only serves the cycle of pain, and actually makes it worse.
By stopping the hard work of self when it becomes difficult or painful, it becomes even harder to begin again each time.
I believe working through the pain when it seems most difficult and unbearable is better for you. The only way out is through. And when you come out the other side, the pain is less acute, and you find it easier to breathe for a while.

I think it can be something as simple as learning yourself. Knowing your triggers. Knowing that at some point you’re going to feel so much pain you simply cannot go on. What you do then is how successful you’ll be on that journey.

Knowing oneself can be the most powerful tool in one’s bag
I do believe it’s as simple as that.
To know who you are.
To know why you are.
To be able to look at your choices and realize why you made them.
So many people can’t actually do that!
You’re where you are because of every single choice you’ve ever made. Sometimes choices are unconsciously made. We often ‘autopilot’ through our days.

What seems normal to you isn’t to someone who didn’t live your experiences. Those normal-seeming things create the way you view life, the way you move through life. How you treat others, how you permit others to treat you.
If your upbringing is skewed, your idea of normal is equally skewed.
Therefore, you behave, and accept others behavior based upon these norms.
Sometimes it isn’t until you have some life under your belt that you learn to see things from all perspectives…and then you realize your sense of normal is not, in fact, normal.

For some that happens sooner in life, for some later.
Working out those kinks is a tricky situation. And you’re bound to falter occasionally.
Figuring out who you actually are, who you want to be, and how to do that without taking into account all that seemingly normal…
You’re on a dark and difficult path. You’re going to fall. You’re going to get the shit kicked out of you, even if you’re actually kicking the shit out of yourself.
But, there is precious learning in this journey. And when you decide who you are based upon your own truth, and work to become that with every fiber of your being, it will be so worth it.

At least that’s my experience.
I’m on that journey, perhaps I’m further along than some, less than others. Perhaps I realized sooner, or later, or through different pain, that the seemingly normal was not at all right.
I’ve fought tooth and nail to get where I am in my own personal development. I’ve faltered. I’ve fallen. I’ve temporarily given up. But I get back up dust myself off and keep working.

The me I am now is nothing like the me they taught me to be.
I am the gift I gave myself.
The most sacred and precious gift of my life.

It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done.
And I cried.
And I bled.
And I completely shut down.
I had moments when it didn’t feel worth it, or I didn’t have any fight left in me.
But each time I got back up.

That spark of truth in me was too strong to extinguish with my ennui, or defeatist attitude, or simple exhaustion.
I’m not finished with that work, it just comes a little bit easier now than when I first started.
I may never be finished. I may do this work the rest of my days.
I owe that to myself.
I want to be the truest me. I want to share that me with the world.
I will work to be the truest me until the last breath leaves this body.
That sounds exhausting, but it also sounds hopeful.

Categories: mental health | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

examining this concept of calling

*W A R N I N G*

This post is going to be straight stream of consciousness writing.
You may find yourself asking, ‘And how is that any different from anything else you write?’ (You also may find yourself having no fucks to give.)
Either way, it’s one of those moments when there are thoughts, and they’re fully hatched, but I’m not sure what to make of them. Or I may not even know exactly what I’m thinking/writing about.

Finding creative ways to live comfortably in one household as one big family while still being two small families is challenging.
Thing 1 and I created a plan for food. Husband N is going on job interviews. YBW continues to keep his work schedule. Running this house with more people and three dogs has proved tricky, but at this point I feel like we’re finally hitting our groove.

In the last two weeks, I sourced nearly all the materials for the double bathroom remodel and construction begins this week.
We’re still making practical and design decisions for the new house. I’m exploring different closet systems to find the best fit, function, and price.

School started this week. I can’t even imagine what subbing will look like in this distance-learning situation. I’ve had no training with the virtual system, and no resources are available no matter where I look or who I ask.
I may simply mark myself unavailable for the time being.

In addition to all these ‘normal’ goings on I am plagued by the blood curdling existential pain of being trapped in a constant feedback loop of trying to figure out what I’m going to “do with my life”.

Every time I start to bring it up with YBW, I feel like I don’t have his undivided attention, or it’s a bigger conversation than he’s willing to participate in at that moment.
I brought it up to Thing 2, and she asked for time to let it marinate before she got back to me. Of course she’s become preoccupied with her own life. As she should be! She just started a new job, that’s a huge deal for her.
Thing 1 was willing to have this conversation with me, but we didn’t actually get anywhere, mostly because it was in the car, on the way home from the grocery store.

I kind of got stuck at the idea that initially sparked the conundrum.
What’s a calling?

In true Roby fashion, this sparked more questions:
Is it luck to be employed in one’s calling?
What’s the difference between a job and a career?
How can I help others?
Does helping others help me?
How can I do what I believe is my calling as a way to earn money?
Is this actually my calling?
(y’all get the picture)

It wasn’t that long ago that I felt so certain about grad school for mental health counseling.
Then I didn’t get in. Then I started looking at other schools. Then I realized what it would actually cost (45K) and that freaked me out.
Then it occurs to me that I could get my masters in instructional design in 18 months for about (10K) and teach people new and interesting ways to teach.
But I’m not sure that’s what I actually want to do.

This is when I chose to stop and examine my life.

I wanted to be a mom literally as long as I can remember.
My first calling.
I did it! And if I do say so myself, I did a damn fine job.

I became a teacher by accident. But found I loved it.
Being with kids is great, but not how I long to spend the rest of my working days.
In this moment it occurs to me that teaching isn’t my calling as much as education is. My passion for education, and brain development, and learning styles is what truly inspires me.
Teaching and learning about education is my calling…?

I feel in need of a new career path.

I am ridiculously passionate about mental health care.
But would I actually be a good therapist?
It’s been pointed out to me that I tend to talk more than listen…

I am ridiculously passionate about learning through play, alternative learning styles and environments, and teaching and learning in unconventional ways.
Can I help others learn different ways of teaching and learning together?

If I spend all that money to get this degree and find I don’t like or am not really good at it, what do I do then?
I’ll eventually have to get a proper job. I mean we won’t starve or be homeless because I’m not working, but at some point I’ll have to do something.
So is that working with people from a mental health point of view?
Is it teaching people innovative ways to teach others? Children and adults.

I don’t know.
I’m really trying to examine this concept of calling.

If my calling was to be a mom, I was amazing at it, and still do an excellent job being the mom of adults. But it’s not an active sort of job. For the most part those active days are over. Now it’s mostly listening and offering suggestions, and sometimes monetary assistance.
Teaching became my calling by accident, and I loved so many things about it. But I know I’m not meant to be in a classroom as I move forward.

So this idea of being a helper, a guide, using my intuition to counsel people who need to look at things from a different point of view…it fits me.
I know I’m meant to be a service person. But in what capacity?
Or, can I be a helper, a guide, using my intuition to teach people innovative ways to teach others?
Is becoming a therapist my new calling?
Is becoming an educator of educators my new calling?

Do I let money stand in the way of what I believe to be my calling?
Do I settle for the next best thing?

How do I even know what is my calling?
This is constantly playing in the background of my brain.
While I’m playing with the baby.
While I’m managing the construction here.
While I’m planning things for the new house.
This never ending feedback loop about my calling and a career path…

I am always asking these questions.
I can’t seem to put my finger on the answer.
I find it frustrating.

I want to jump feet first into my calling.
Is it really my calling?

As you see, the cycle just continues…

You may find yourself wondering why I’m worrying myself about this right now while all these other things are going on. (You also may find yourself having no fucks to give. Either way, we’re still cool.)
I’m a doer.
I’m always asking, ‘What’s next?’
I know when we get settled in the new house it will be time for me to do something productive. I want to be ready for whatever that is.
Is that productive thing my calling?
Do I have the luxury of more than one calling in my lifetime?
Is it that managing the project of getting this house ready and planning and choosing things to get the new house ready simply don’t fulfill me?
Does one’s calling fulfill one?

All the Roby questions with no Roby answers.
Twas ever thus…

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

surprise jammie day

Saturday was a pretty chill day around here.
YBW and I fitted a bottom for Baby K’s dollie bed. Seriously, that was the only work I did.
Actually that’s not true. I cleaned the kitchen.

We each spent time on our computers.
I went through my natal chart.
We watched a movie. I think we watched two movies.

I realized something as we lie on the couch in front of the TV.
It was the first time I spent the entire day in pajamas since March.

I’ve been relentless in keeping a routine. Getting dressed every single day. Week days. Weekends. I’m up and dressed and going about my day.
That was how I kept myself sane.

Here’s what’s interesting about having a jammie day.
I think it means I’m beginning to feel ‘normal’. (we can debate actual definitions at a later point)
About once a month, I’ll have a weekend day in which I choose to be still. I remain in my pajamas all day and do or do not do whatever pleases me. Oftentimes those days are days spent in front of the TV with YBW. We’ll watch things off the DVR or watch movies or binge a show. It’s normally a good day. And even if I feel like a slug at the end of it, I know the next day I’ll be up and doing the things.
Sometimes I just need to disconnect from routine. Sometimes I just need to be still.

I haven’t given myself that kind of day since March. I clung desperately to a routine that helped me feel ‘normal’. In doing so did I not provide that much needed chill day?
I don’t know.

It wasn’t premeditated. It just happened.
Clearly I needed a jammie day and didn’t even know it.

These thoughts don’t feel fully hatched, but I’m learning that doesn’t always matter.
I needed to get them out.
I needed to say (out loud to y’all) that I had a pajama day for the first time since March.

Makes me wonder if you find yourselves realizing you’re doing or not doing things you normally do or do not in effort to feel normal.
Please let me know.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

a tune for Tuesday vol 78

I’m not the biggest Judah & the Lion fan, but I love this song.
It was written for band member Nate Zuercher who’s experienced difficulty with depression over the last few years.
In an interview with American Songwriter, Zuercher says,

“It’s also him (frontman Judah Akers) trying to show up for me as a brother and figuring out what it looks like to speak truth about someone he cares about when it’s hard for them to hear that.”

It’s absolutely beautiful.
Oftentimes when someone is in a depressed state, it’s nearly impossible to hear anything positive, or good about themselves. Perhaps this song can make even the smallest difference.

Please listen responsibly.

Categories: music | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

my truth is self evident

I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.

On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.

I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.

When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.

I feel like Sirius Black.

How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.

I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.

I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.

My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.

This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.

This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.

I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

the view from here

The last two days, I feel like I’ve been in seriously great Momma mode!
Y’all, I’m so blessed to be my daughters mother. They are incredible women, and my love for them is unconditional and limitless!

Yesterday Thing 2 and I talked for a while for the first time since my birthday. I assisted her in some important decision making, and provided over all Momma love and support. That girl is made of some seriously sturdy stuff, but sometimes needs help remembering. It’s hard when you feel like you have to do everything on your own. Being reminded you have loving, supportive people in your corner helps get you out of your head and provides a fresh perspective on everything.

This morning Thing 1 was feeling a bit overwhelmed by her own great and arduous task of packing her house. I asked if she was needing assistance planning or simply needed to be heard. She was all about the help.
So I suggested she start with a list (I mean of course I did, I’m the freaking List Lady after all!). I suggested she plan out what needs to be packed and then create a timeline.
Of course Baby K is like, WTF mommy? when Thing 1 is trying to pack instead of playing. I know that’s hard for both of them.
But I was struck with an idea!
What if Thing 1 actively packed for only twenty minutes each hour!?! She may not feel like she’s accomplishing much, or even finish packing one box, but she might feel less overwhelmed, and Baby K won’t get her diapie in a twist at being ‘ignored’.
Set a timer! Crank the music! Make a game of it! Baby K will love that, and Thing 1 can get things done without too much stress.
And, if she does her twenty minutes at the top of each hour, they have that last forty minutes to play together!

And in this house…
Yesterday afternoon, I opened one of the bins YBW and I pulled out of the utility room.
It was labeled with the names of my grandparents followed by the words family info.
So I was pretty much expecting all the genealogy stuff my mother complied in her lifetime. That was what I remembered putting in the bin after going through all the stuff my mother’s husband gave me five years ago.
But damn if I didn’t surprise myself!
In that bin was more so much more than the genealogy information.
Some random af stuff I didn’t know what to do with when I initially received it, but felt comfortable deciding yesterday.
Grandaddy’s harmonica.
My mom’s passport in which I too am in the photo as I was in her belly.
My grandmother’s hand written birth certificate.
And this (these?) gem(s).

I was able to divide and conquer everything, saving some things I want the girls to see before I dispose of them, and only had a small discard pile.
Of course now I have a stuffy headache from the mildew that clings to some of those items. It’s worth it.

Today I’m kind of being quiet. That is, not really doing much. Some writing. A bit of tidying. A bit of ridiculousness…
YBW is working from home this week so I went in there and said, You have a minute? He turned to give me his undivided attention.
Me: Wanna know how old I am?
YBW: Forty nine.
Me: Yeah, but not in chronological time.
YBW: …
Me: I think I need a neckchain for my reading glasses.
YBW: smiles but says nothing…
Me: If I’m wearing a pony or bun-bun I can’t put them on top of my head, they fall off.
YBW: serious face but silent…
Me: Is that ridiculous?
YBW: Not if me in my shorts and tee, and socks and slippers, and hoodie isn’t too ridiculous.
Me: I love everything about you.
YBW: Me too, baby.

Good Lord, we’re ridiculous!
At least each of us thinks this about the other.

This afternoon I’ll be focusing on organizing music, doing a bit of research on brain health and mental illness, and shopping for some stylish chains for my reading glasses.
Can you handle the excitement?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

things are just things

Y’all know Thing 1 and her family will be living in our house for a few months starting some time in July.
Y’all know YBW and I are eager to purchase and move into that townhouse.
The first of these will cause a change in the way we live in this house.
The second how we live in our new house.

This got me thinking about how I currently live in this house, how I want to live my remaining time in this house, and how I want to live in the new house.
Not how YBW and I live together. Those things must be decided by us as a unit.
I’m thinking how I want to live and what that means for me as a member of our household.

This thought process has been somewhat active as we begin to make preparations, but hatched into actual thoughts when I sent a photo to Thing 1 and Thing 2 asking if either of them had any interest in this item.

The story is my great aunt made this lamp for me. I don’t know when, but I do know I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t in my bedroom.
This Raggedy Ann lamp is a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but I don’t have any strong feels about it.
Thing 1 remarked that it’s one of those things that just stuck around.
The more I considered this, the more I realized that’s not a mindful way to live. At least I feel that way now about how I want to live.
Of late, I’ve worried that it may seem as though, and sometimes even feels like I’m just purging to purge, but I’m actually being super mindful about the way I want to live.
And what I surround myself with.
And what I leave behind needs to be the truest representation of the me I am (was?), and be simple for my daughters to handle.

I have this feeling it’s like shedding skin…
Or some sort of evolutionary process…
Leaving behind who you were in a mindful and respectful way and making room to become the next version of you…?

This is the last year of my forties, a natural phase of evolution as we get ready for a decade change. As I look at my life, I see how much my surroundings impact the way I live. By going through my things in a respectfully mindful way, I can prepare and environment that will meet my needs. Living my intention. Thriving in an environment that gives me everything I need with the bonus of things that foster learning and creativity. An environment in which I have enough room and the proper tools to grow into the next version of me.

Even though this lamp has been in my life as long as I can remember I don’t have any real feels about it.
Lack of feels is a strong indication that I don’t need it in my life which obviously means there’s no place for it in my house.
Purging to purge isn’t always healthy.
But being mindful about how I curate my environment is incredibly healthy.

My mom was not a full blown horder, but she was sure as hell a packrat. What I’ve learned about her since she’s been gone is that she saved things to fill emotional emptiness. By simply having these things she could feel the feels she didn’t have inside her.
She saved things that meant something because of the feels they evoked in her. Feels she couldn’t experience any other way.
My ex husband is exactly the same.
There is something about possessing particular items that provides some sort of emotion they otherwise lack (lacked). I truly believe it reinforces their stunted emotional growth. Then the weight of the things traps (trapped) them, so there’s no room to learn, or create, or grow.

I understand having great big feels about certain items. For me, a specific example of this is my Grandaddy’s wallet. It is of absolutely no use to me, but the feelings that bubble up in me when I hold it make it worth keeping.
But that is one particular item that is in a special place in my bookshelf that I can go to when I want to feel the intensity of those feels.
It doesn’t impact the way I live. It doesn’t block creativity or inhibit learning. It doesn’t waste space. It doesn’t keep me from growing as a human.
And I know as I write this that there will come a point in time I’ll be willing to let it go. Today is not that time.

I can’t be trapped by possessions. I need freedom to move. If I can’t move, I can’t grow.
I need to grow!
I want to evolve in my relationships with my friends.
I want to evolve in my relationships with my daughters.
I want to evolve with my granddaughter as she builds relationships.
I want to evolve in my relationship with my precious husband.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

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