Essay for Woman Sleeping in an Attic

DSCN9920Procrastination is not my friend. Yet, the only work I have done on my second memoir that reflects on living in between homes (several times), comes out as essays. So, why not just write a series of blog essays and then transform them into a book later? 

And lately, memories of the first time I left Bellingham during the summer of 1986 mingles with the second time I left Bellingham three weeks ago. The first time, I left I felt hopeful as I packed up my Datsun and headed to Seattle to break into the music business. The second time, I loaded up a U-Haul truck and I only felt dread as I hauled my meager belongings to a storage unit just outside of Port Townsend. And then settled into my family’s home (not in Port Townsend).

When I was 22-years-old, I considered myself hopeful but still one of the walking wounded latch-key kids trying to make sense of my life. I had my entire life to map out and I mapped it out. I had plans for every area of my life and I had a schedule to keep. When I was in my twenties, I paid no attention to people over 30 and I certainly never expected to reach my menopause years or my fifties.

Like every young adult pursuing a career in the arts, I expected to live in a bohemian-style for several years until I got my big break. Only the bohemian lifestyle continued without the big break and the older I got I just seemed like a loser. I did not achieve what I expected to achieve. I did not marry or live in a formidable home. In fact, many times I found myself without a home at all.

I didn’t do everything right but I also didn’t do anything truly wrong. I made some bad choices, but I never took up the worst kind of habits. And yet, who was I to think that I wasn’t as wounded or dysfunctional as the alcoholics and addicts living down the hall from me in Seattle’s apartment buildings? The good news for the addict is that they get help a lot earlier as their addictions humbled them. While I stayed longer in denial and even acted smugly towards addicts or people suffering from mental illnesses.

And as many addicts I knew got their lives together and experienced redemption, my life kept spiraling downward despite the number of spiritual workshops I took or self-help books I absorbed into my subconscious mind. I experienced many ah-hah moments but I never experienced salvation. I had many people warn me about my defences but my ego shut them out. I thought despite the outward signs of my life crumbling into oblivion that I had it together or I would at least fake it until I made it.

So, as our U-Haul truck made its way to a storage unit in the middle of a cow pasture, I wondered with despair how I ended up in this transition. And my eyes opened wider when I met women from my childhood also going through transition. And then on FaceBook, a few of my friends also find themselves relocating to other parts of the country, getting divorced, or going through a complete overhaul of their lives.

And the Marvin Gaye’s words, “What’s Going On” swim in my thoughts as do water moccasins swim through the flood waters in the southern United States. And the land shifts in Mexico and enormous winds and rain plummel the Caribbean islands. Indeed, I ask why are their so many displaced people? And I think for many, this represents a humbling experience that breaks open our hearts.

In one of my channel sessions, my guides told me that at this time the weak are made strong and the strong are made weak. We are here to learn from each other. Those who suffered before us learned survival skills and now share those with us. We will emerge from coping to thriving. And my wish for everyone is to survive the transition that will lead us to the promised land.

 

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Holding Out for the Cinderella Ending

Queen Anne tub, 1995

I thought I had completed my memoir, Woman Sleeping on the Couch last spring, but with a recent turn-of-events, I still have one last chapter to write. And I’m hoping for a Cinderella type ending.

At the beginning of August, my landlord gave me 30 days to vacate my current home. This home was never meant to be permanent but a jumping off point to my dream home. I have dealt with spiders, mold, and other irritations for the past several months, but at the same time I was grateful to live in the Sunnyland neighborhood of Bellingham.

Given my experiences from last fall, mainly dealing with narcissists and their ensuing drama as I couch surfed, I went into panic mode at the beginning of August thinking that I would have to experience the in between home scenarios once again. But then something miraculous happened and a friend hooked me up with a channeled session, much like the Abraham-Hicks work and I began uncovering my blocks by transmuting fear and despair into anger that burned through all the lies I had been taught since childhood. I let go of defenses and allowed myself to dream big.

So with a few days left to manifest my dream home (something I hadn’t even considered prior to doing Louise Hay’s affirmations and this clearing work), I see myself walking into a counter intuitive situation and living in a beautiful home for free by exchanging creative services (interior decorating, photography, etc). It can be done and when this dream home manifests, I’ll complete my memoir and begin another round of pitches.