Last updated on January 31, 2023
Most weeks I sleep in on my shorter-shift days but this morning I dropped my commuter-car off to get the brakes fixed so am up “early.” As I still daily do every day, I am sitting here pinching myself…actually I am sitting her just “being” here intentionally…because this house, this home, my life now is so radically different from where I’ve come from that it all still feels unreal.
So I practice feeling, seeing, hearing, being right here…and the tears come. Every time.
-Raindrops on the lawn and walk out front
-Dogs running through the doggy door
-Lit, warm, bright, beautiful, messy front room
-My comfy-but-not-too-swanky recliner under me—a free-chair from the FB marketplace I enjoy completely guilt free as a result
-My living-yet-silent-friends standing watch, each plant growing toward the light of my big front windows
-Our prayer corner carried from home to home and now here in my owned home
-Warm and cozy house shoes—a gift from a patients family
-This quiet, hometown street stretching out between me and my neighbors, who haven’t questioned my existence here even once!
All this was never part of the dream. None of this. I didn’t dare think this big. Surviving the next day is all I could hope for, there was no space to dream of permanence or safety.
In fact, in my private calculations permenance was the opposite of safety. A home was always owned by someone with the power to take it from me—my parents, my sisters, my husbands or boyfriends. What kept me safe(r) was being ready to run at a moments notice. I made that first vow at a young age when I saw my mother attached to a abuser by a home, bills and basic needs to never let that happen to me. Of course, I’d also learned how to play the game of mutual-manipulation, quid-pro-quo, pay-to-play so well that I was playing my heart out whether I needed to or not.
So here I am now…teaching my ready-to-run self that this is safety, this is my-own, this home and life don’t require me to sell my soul or my body. This isn’t a gift from a sugar daddy expecting favors in return or a guilt-ridden parent waiting on my eternal gratitude.
This home. This work. This family. These are mine free and clear.
There was a quote I read in a New Years greeting that said something along the lines of “So grateful for all the blessings of last year…and for those I don’t understand yet.” This resonates deeply within me.
Most of the time I still feel like an orphan transplanted into a palace. I choose to be grateful and to daily practice embracing my being right here, right now.
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