The “Home” Space.

Over the past few years (that have truly dwindled down to months, weeks and days) “home” has become a day dream word. Something unattainable and not at all tangible. A word that I have almost grown resentful of at times.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been blessed with a roof over our heads, beds to sleep in and tables to eat at. But that feeling of contentment, security and warmth has mostly evaded me. Okay, completely evaded me.

I’ve chalked it up to all the upheaval and many personal losses that have taken their toll on my life. I used to tell myself that maybe it was just time I grew up and gave up the fantasy.

As it would turn out, a recent move across the state became very necessary. Suddenly, the word “home” took on a completely new meaning. The endless packing and discarding and discovering. It was emotionally exhausting as well as physically exhausting and all in pursuit of something that we could call “home.” Major resentment all over again…

By nothing short of grace, it suddenly clicked though. In the midst of putting together beds and cleaning off shelves, I found my home and it wasn’t in a building. It was (and always has been) in my heart. Ridiculous as that sounds, that’s where “home” really  waits for us all. It will always be there… sometimes we are just to numb and broken to feel it.

I want to record this moment and my discovery, in case I forget it while going down one of life’s many arduous paths again…

Note to self: “home” is something we all carry inside of us. We help it evolve for the sake of those we love. When our hearts are whole this “place” becomes  beautiful, wild and full of possibilities. When we are broken, it can become dark, scary and a lonely space.

 

 

 

 

Shell of me

As I stood there washing the last pot of this evening, I felt drained. Granted it’s only Tuesday, but it’s been a long week. A long month too (and its only the 7th of June). I know that anyone who takes time to read this can relate.

Life goes by too fast and it WILL take pieces of you with it… it can be hard to create moments that will last.

Even for those with no family demands, no children demands, no job demands… life all on its own will drain you.

I’m usually a hopeful realist. Half Dreamer/half critic. I see things that need to be done and I do it. I plan most everything out, with sporadic instances of spontaneity and later followed by moments of cringing.

At least once a week I tell myself, “slow down, take a breather, write some of this shit down.” As life changes I find myself mentally shifting and I feel this should be documented somewhere… everyone’s life moments should be documented somewhere… one day I believe they will be reflected in another generation and that generation will need to be reminded of what life is really about.

So, back to washing that pot… I want to document this moment in a  youngish, single, stressed and exhausted mother’s life. Mine, that is. As I washed that huge pot, left from a huge dinner (I come from a huge family that I frequently help feed), all I could think about was how empty I felt…truly, like a shell of myself.

Waking up at 5 am for work, putting in a full day’s work, the two hour commute home (in Texas heat no less), making dinner, cleaning dinner and managing to still take the kids swimming, all before the sun set…  that was my day and every other day really. Almost every moment of all my days, requires this game where I have to convince myself to just keep going. Going, going, going, gone.

I push, plead, pull and scream…all at myself that is.  I watch others juggle things (seemingly) effortlessly. I make lists in my head of all the undone goals. I cram productivity into every waking moment and still find myself running to catch up. This is my life and it IS a beautiful real mess. Often I find myself begrudging that “shell-like feeling.” The empty, drained feeling…the one that makes me feel like a failure, like I have nothing to show for this part of my life…

Tonight I felt that emptiness and at the same time, something greater. That’s when I realized this shell of a person I’ve been dragging around is changing; a metamorphosis is occurring, on the inside of me. I may not feel any greater today, but in the future…I just might be flying.

I think we should all celebrate these “shell-like” moments, something great is happening behind the scenes.

 

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Intro to a beautiful mess.

It’s been on my mind (for quite some time) to keep track of all of life’s beautiful messes… we all have a story to tell. My story starts with a great big view… a beautiful mess. Life can best be sum up in the details of everyday living. My life is messy, imperfect… some view it as a disastrous mess, an epic fail. I see it as an honest attempt to live, love and grow. No matter your story or background; we are all a beautiful mess. A masterpiece in the making. Writing is my paintbrush and I’m excited to finally “paint some strokes.” untitled