Holy Shit

Tonight, in lieu of my typical post, I present to you this video montage to summarize my first month of “freedom” from full-time employment.

First, to explain the title (and forgive the profanity if it offends), I have been saying these two words a lot in recent weeks. Because I’m in it. Deep. It’s an AFGE (see previous post) all the way.

I know I come across all confident and such in this blog, but this is some hard stuff I’m sorting through. Abandoning security sounds super-brave, but most days I just want my mom to come along and feed me cookies. You need to know the less-glorious side of the process, too.

It isn’t all easy and skippy and bright and sparkly.

This process of becoming is often shitty. It is also truly holy. And I believe both can exist with equal tension, equal power, equal grace.

So without further ado:

When I decided to quit my job, leave Minnesota, and return to my beloved North Carolina, I was pumped up with the power. It felt beyond liberating to leave a life that wasn’t fulfilling my deepest needs (mountains, family, connection, creativity) to begin a new one that would. It felt a lot like this:

My first month home I spent at my parents’ at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. It was beyond lovely to have my mom cook me meals after seven years so far away from home. I felt myself slipping into a coma of comfort, delighting in the lack of effort my days required. I realized how tired I was of standing alone. It felt a lot like this:

So last week, on Wednesday, I moved into my new apartment, about 1/3 the size of my house in Rochester, MN. It’s a decent apartment, affordable and in a great location near downtown. But it’s sort of scruffy. And there is no central A/C. And apparently a mosquito colony lived here before I moved in. I miss my yard and my neighbors….

Egads, I miss security. What would Mel Gibson say? (probably something racist, but I digress…)

So the past few days I’ve felt a lot like this:

And here’s the thing: I know it’s going to be OK. I know I will find my routine, establish my relationships, get my feet underneath me.

But I’m here to tell you that change is not always safe, or swift, or endlessly delightful. It can be hard, and dirty, and frustrating, and slow.

I want you to know this so you have the full picture, the complete story of what it means to step out of what is familiar in the service of a dream.

I’ll keep at it. I hope you will as well. And perhaps the next time we meet, this is how we’ll be feeling:

I’ll show up for it if you will…

Peace to you on your journey.