This summer I’m letting go… of everything.
My home.
My stuff.
My paradigms.
Two weeks ago I moved out of my home for the past 8 years, put all my stuff (what was left of it) in storage, and hit the road. Then I drove across the continent to spend the summer here:
This was not an easy process, and if you want to know the truth, almost everything that could go wrong, did.
First, before we hit the road, the owners of my apartment gave me incorrect information about my lease (unbenounced to me). Then, the day before I was supposed to leave, they told me I had 5 days to vacate the apartment, not the 3 weeks I had planned to hire help to pack the rest of my things and move them to storage by the end of August. Say what?? Talk about pressure.
But I am lucky to have some really, truly, incredible friends. One of which helped me pack for a week before we hit the road together, and two of which continued packing after I left Portland, coordinated the sale of my furniture, and managed the movers. All of this was done, by the way, in Oregon’s most sweltering summer heat.
It all got done in the end, but it was STRESSFUL. Because of the time constraint, yes. But also because it forced me to get over myself and ask for help on a whole new level. (What can you even do to thank friends who show up to help you on that scale? Puppy? New car? Write them a song? Please advise.)
And then there was the road trip. Oi vey. The first day of our road trip my dog barked the whole time (no, not kidding or exaggerating, despite maximum doses of Trazodone and Xanax). In the middle of that, a piece of my car flew off the front windshield and landed on the shoulder of I-84 outside of the TriCities, which I had to walk a half mile to retrieve in smothering 98 degree heat while praying I didn’t get hit by a semi. Good times.
And then there was that traffic jam where it took us two hours to go 6 miles through part of Idaho, also in 98 degree heat. (Now recorded in history as Idaho’s first and only traffic jam.) Which meant we didn’t reach our first day destination and had to scramble to find a place to stay in Butte, Montana. And that was just Day One (aka, Disaster Day). That doesn’t include getting stuck in North Dakota with car trouble for two days, the fact that no one in North Dakota will fix a Land Rover, and that you have to get your car all the way to Minneapolis for an actual repair. All of which we did.
It all sounds like a lot of work, a lot of stress, your basic hot mess, right? So why the heck would I put myself through this experience? That’s the million dollar question right there.
The simple answer is, I needed a change. Not the way you might switch up your workout routine, or get a cappuccino instead of a latte once in a while. I was ready for CHANGE.
But there is more. This move has also been about trusting my inner voice. The voice that has been calling me to take this trip and come to this place. This place that holds the energy of my grandmother, where I can honor her memory, take time to grieve, and heal from the deep, heartbreaking loss of her this past year.
I listened to the inner voice telling me to move house, even though I don’t know where that next home will be….yet. I had a moment of crystal clarity a few months ago that I won’t know where I want to live until I leave the place I’m in. Admittedly, when I heard myself say it out loud, it sounded like a crazy plan. But there was that other part of me, a deep knowing, that I just had to do it. So I trusted the voice, and I let go of my home. I am officially uprooted, lightly anchored only by a forwarding address.
And I’ve been listening to the voice that has been calmly advocating for a massive pattern interrupt in my life. I needed to break free from the sense of sameness that had gone from feeling safe to feeling stagnant. I needed to trust the uncharacteristic feeling of restlessness that has brought me here, 3500 miles, 10 states, 3 provinces and one massive car repair away from my last home.
Why did I trust my inner voice? It’s not because I’m crazy or woo-woo or because I love road-trips. (Ask anyone who knows me – they will tell you that wanderlust is typically not my thing.) It’s because life doesn’t happen by default. Growth doesn’t happen without change. And holding on to what is doesn’t leave enough space for the things you really want in life.
To create the next chapter of your life, you have to take responsibility for your path. And you must be willing to let go of what is to create space for what you really want.
What is it that you want in your life? What about in your business? What are you holding on to that’s limiting your growth? Most importantly, what support do you need to make change and create the life and business you desire? (Reminder: I did not get through this journey without asking for help, being vulnerable, and so much amazing support from family, friends, and even strangers I met along the way.)