Precipice

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sleep has been elusive of late. I’ve struggled to fall asleep and then I find myself awake again far too soon. I’ve run my Kindle battery to zero every night for the past couple weeks. I’ve moved from bedroom to couch, either to escape Brock’s movements that seem to amplify when I can’t sleep or to avoid disturbing him with mine. I’ve resorted to Benadryl to try to force my brain to slumber, but my body just laughs it off.

It’s amazing (yet not surprising) how critical sleep is. When I am tired, everything feels insurmountable, from making decisions about the house to trying to compose an essay. My temper is short and my patience shorter.

I. Just. Want. To. Sleep.

When Brock comes in the bedroom to see me still reading or comes to check on me on the couch, he inquires, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

The short answer? I don’t know. I’ve never been a great sleeper and I’ve gone through periods where I struggled more with it than usual. Apart from the months after the divorce; however, I have not resorted to prescription sleep aids. Usually, it’s a phase. It seems like my body gets into the habit of sleeplessness and, like any habit, it can be hard to break.

The longer answer is that I am standing on the precipice of a time of great change. I know it’s coming, sooner rather than later. I can somewhat prepare but, no matter what, I cannot do enough now to make the near future any smoother.

I am in the last few precious days of my summer break before the whirlwind of the school year starts again. I just received word that Georgia has opted out of the assessment program that we have spent the last two years preparing for and there is talk of yet another curriculum overhaul. This means that the preparations that I did last year for the coming year are now null and void. I don’t know what I’m walking into next week.

We are set to move in the first couple weeks of September. I’m taking advantage of my time now to begin some packing but most of it will have to wait. Which, in a way that’s good as it says that we use most of the stuff that is in our house, but… it also means that the bulk of the packing will have to occur when I’m trying to acclimate to the new school year and Brock is consumed with some martial arts activities. Likewise, the needed purchases and updates can’t occur until after closing.

So, new school year with new assessments, new house and, let’s not forget, a new marriage all in the next couple months. All good things (okay, except maybe the new assessments), yet all change.

I think change can be easier when it comes in the form of a tsunami. You do not have the anxiety of anticipation nor the time to question it as it occurs. It just sweeps you up and carries you along as you struggle to simply keep your head above water.

Planned change can be harder. You have the illusion of control so it can be more difficult to simply let go. You can see it coming and foresee (and fabricate!) troubles that will come with it.

Right now, I feel like I should be taking action. I have time, something I will not have starting next week. However, that anticipation of the precipice is making action impossible since I cannot achieve the required rest.

I am going to do my best over the next few days to turn my back on the precipice, to not worry about what needs to be done or what may come up, and to simply be in my current moment.

Change is coming and maybe the best thing I can do to be prepared to give myself the gift of this moment. The edge will be here soon enough. Hopefully I can sleep without rolling over it.

Here I Go Again

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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I guess sometimes the third try is the charm (just, please not for marriages…two is plenty!). After putting in three offers on three different houses, we are finally under contract and set to close just before Labor Day. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m so ready to be settled. But I’m also scared of settling in.

This will be my fifth move in four years. I’ve been pretty nomadic since the divorce. I knew that each move had a expiration date, so I have not taken the time or energy to fully nest in a place. It’s freeing in a way, but I’ve also missed that sense of home. That feeling of being in a place that I’ve personalized to my needs and tastes.

I’ve also been living in other people’s spaces. My first home was a spare bedroom in my friend’s house. Since I left everything behind, I used everything from her furniture to her linens. I had no personal stamp at all. My next home was an apartment by myself for a year. I furnished the entire place for $2000 and the help from IKEA (perfect for college students and the recently divorced alike!). Even though it was my space, I still held back since I knew that is was also a temporary resting spot. My next perch was in Brock’s townhome. This time, I brought furniture and other belongings with me, but I was still moving into someone else’s space. The current rental has been an improvement, as we both entered at the same time, but I still have resisted injecting my taste into the temporary home. Even on the house hunting, I have been somewhat distant from the houses, refusing to get emotionally attached (hmmm…kinda like I was when I first started dating).

This is different now.

This is a Home. This is a place where we intend to spend the next 15-20 years. This is a place where I can personalize. This is a place where I can grow roots. This is a place where I can move in without having to set aside the boxes for the inevitable move out. This is a place where the paint that goes on the walls won’t be from the leftovers in the garage. This is a place where things can be fixed instead of endured. This is a place where I can garden again. This is a place where I can grow.

I don’t know why, but the purchase of a house symbolizes more about commitment and moving on than the marriage does. I don’t know why, bu the purchase of a house makes me more nervous than the upcoming nuptials. It’s liked I’m scared to root again because of the fear of the pain of being uprooted.

Stupid fear. Ultimately, it’s just a house. Four walls and a screened in porch. I should not let it symbolize more than it is. After all, I can love and be happy with or without a Home. It’s time to let go of the fear of losing again. It’s time to relax and settle in. Hopefully soon on my new porch:)

Getting Over Him

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The photos of my ex-husband are not on my walls. Nor are they in albums on my shelves or in files on my computer. The pictures I have of him and the life we shared are contained safely within a sealed box that resides in my mother’s attic halfway across the country. I do not want to gaze upon them or interact with them in any way but nor do I want to dispose of them completely.

My ex’s place in my mind is similar to that of his pictures. He is there, but he is tucked securely away. He is not at the forefront of my thoughts. I do not want to gaze upon him or interact with him in any way but nor do I want to attempt to erase him completely.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.

Are You Pot Bound In Your Life?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I first started gardening, I was timid with my new plants. I would very gently ease them out of their nursery pots, cutting away at any plastic that was bound too tightly. I would carefully tease apart the roots, unwinding them from their circular pot-shaped path and tenderly place the new acquisition in its meticulously prepared hole. Then I would water and wait, assured that the foliage would soon attain the glorious heights featured in the magazines.

Sometimes I lucked out and the plant survived.

But, more often than not, those early attempts at gardening failed. The plants would appear to thrive for a period of time and then they would begin to wither and die.

I didn’t understand. After all, I had selected the right plants for the conditions. I prepared the soil. I watered judiciously. I babied the plant.

I thought I was doing everything right.

But still they failed to thrive.

Throughout this time, I kept trying. New plants. New locations. And finally, a new nursery. I discovered a discount seller that offered small plants at amazing prices. I made a shopping list, covered the interior of my car in blue tarps and came home with over 100 individual plants. It was impossible to baby them all. There was no way I could gently tease the overgrown roots from the plastic pots without damage. My new strategy was to squeeze or thump the pot to release the soil and then to slide the new plant on its side on the bare soil. Then, instead of carefully unwinding the roots, I would use my trowel to quickly make four clean, vertical cuts along the root ball before placing the plant in its new home. The tender loving care was replaced with a quick message that the plant was no longer bound to its pot. The roots were told to spread. To explore. To anchor and find sustenance from the surrounding soil.

I watered and I waited. And the plants grew. And grew. Not one fell victim to the precedent of early growth followed by slow death. Just to be sure that the results were not due to some factor related to the nursery, I applied that same planting technique to plants acquired from other sources and the results were equally as positive.

I came to realize that my early attempts were misguided; the gentle unwinding of the roots was not a strong enough message to the plant. When I pulled up the struggling foliage, I found that the roots had resumed their former pot bound growth pattern, becoming a congested gnarled cylindrical knot, incapable of providing the plant with the nourishment it needed. The boundary was no longer present, yet the plants acted as though they were still constrained.

Do you ever feel stuck?

Do you feel constrained by perceived boundaries?

Do you ever feel like you’re growing in circles?

Are you pot bound in your own life?

In retrospect, I can see this pattern in my former marriage. My world became too small, too constrained. I was looking for nourishment and support within a small space. The divorce was more battle axe than trowel upon my exposed roots, but it certainly served to send me the message that it was okay to spread. To grow. To leave the perceived security of the known.

We are only pot bound when we believe that we are limited by our perceptions and beliefs. When we are afraid of growing too far and too fast. Sometimes it takes a strong message to release our roots from their accustomed path. Sometimes it takes some injury and pain to shock the system into a new way of being.

Don’t fear the cut of the trowel; it’s just the universe sending you the message that it’s okay to grow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebration

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Today marks four years since I received the text message that ended my marriage. I’m celebrating – not the end of the marriage but the life and love that I have found since. I used to mark July as a disaster, now I can see it as a beginning.

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