It was a dark and stormy night…
…as laid in bed at about 1am this morning, listening to the rain assault the plants and wood chips outside the window of my parents’ condo where I’m currently living. As this blog post started to swirl in my head, I thought of Snoopy and the book he would write in many a Peanuts episode.
I’d been awake for a while by the time I got up to start writing. I had fallen asleep, twice, listening to meditations from my new “Waking Up” app by Sam Harris. And as I type that - I realize the irony, and smirk at the possibility that the app’s title is the cause for my sleepless state.
it’s not the app, I know. I’ve been awake because last night, my husband and I put an offer in on a house closer to my family. Much closer. Like minutes away from my mom and dad as well as my sister. I love this house. It backs up to a nature preserve that was once a high-end golf course. It is land healing itself with the mother trees finally having their children around them. The milkweed shared its product with migrating monarchs. Evidence of deer and other wild creatures taking refuge from the urban sprawl that once forced them from here is present throughout.
The house is small - almost a tiny house - at the end of a quiet street that keeps the larger metro area at bay. I believe our offer will be accepted. We put money and terms behind it that make my head shake in disbelief and awe that I have the power to do such a thing. I can already feel myself making pies in that kitchen. Then eating them in front of the fireplace with Lukas curled into me on the couch. No other house comes close to making me feel as welcome, loved and grounded as this small 2 bedroom, 1 bath house makes me feel.
And yet - it is just a house. A man-made structure. A shelter. A port that I know I am going to need as the storm dubbed “Coming Home” is about to unleash.
I never wanted to live near home. I wanted to be out in the world exploring all of her wonders. I didn’t want to deal with the out-of-placeness that I feel in my hometown and many times with my family. But, I am needed. Mom and Dad don’t want to admit it yet - but they do. My sister and I are fairly certain my mom has dementia. A feeling reinforced by a sundowning episode that left me in tears tonight. My dad, while healthy, is still almost 80 and this “road” that we''re on, isn’t going to be easier if my grandmother’s mortal dance with Alzheimer’s indicates what we’re facing. It’s time to get a diagnosis and starting putting a plan in place so my dad, in particular, is not caught flat-footed and has another stroke..
I feel suspended in this moment in time. Will the offer on my safe harbor be accepted? Will the doctor listen to my request and grant us a referral so my mom can have a proper evaluation? Will these life-long feelings of unworthiness finally dissipate so I can completely show up for my family?
I’ve done a lot of work over the last few years, developing a closer relationship with my guides and the Divine spirit within me. Peeling back the proverbial onion to understand how the four main negative beliefs of unworthiness, being not good enough, being unloveable and unsafe, not-secure and unprotected have rooted themselves in me. With this work, I can see how I’ve created workarounds to not deal with the pain. Workarounds like always living out of reach and keeping the family at bay.
This is what is keeping me up tonight - watching protective measure after protective measure fall away. And, simultaneously, feeling my voice rise from my throat as it asserts “not this time, not again, no.” This time, I have hope, faith, and trust at my back. I am surrounded by my guides and the angels. I can feel my connection to the Universe, the Divine, and it’s telling me this time, here at home, I’ve got this. And it’s time to go back to bed.
On this dark and stormy night, my guides and I did a deep dive into what’s keeping me up.
Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash