I have been inspired to write this blog as I have had some people say they wanted me to keep them in the loop about my journey. Posting for a driver to drive my car to Chicago on FB has gotten so much attention, curiosity and questions about what the hell I am doing, that I am trying out publishing.
Friends have used words like warrior and courageous to describe me and what I am doing. I alternate between feeling crazy, getting the business done of unloading household belongings, hand-me-downs from parents, and packing. All the while I am considering what it means to be a warrior and courageous. Inside I have a battlefield, sometimes erupting, leaving me bloodied, but when I hold the idea of what I’m doing as an experiment, I feel more permission to be curious, be kind, and have some freedom to listen to my knowing, intrinsic voice.
I am a warrior, I get bloodied, I am courageous and I am crazy.
I moved to California in April of 1982; after a breakup that left me really depressed. I drove out from Chicago with a roommate who I never saw again once I arrived. I knew one person who let me stay with them in their home in Woodacre. I moved a few times and finally went back to school because at that time, being a student was my favorite thing to do. I became a psychotherapist with a private practice, supervised, taught, married, had two wonderful daughters, divorced and then seem to have lost myself.
Or, now, after some years, I think I found myself. I began to realize that I wanted to be home and hadn’t felt home since we were a family, married, busy doing kid things in an almost uncomfortably safe community of Piedmont, CA. If you know me, you know my kids always come first and this community was perfect for that; good enough schools, very safe, neighborhoods, etc. But it lost its luster after the kids were grown and I was a single woman again. I have wondered, was it my projection that single women weren’t really wanted there or was it true? Was it just about me not feeling right there? I now think some or all of it is so. With my divorce, the threads of not feeling at home anymore had begun to spin a tale. I sold the house we remodeled so beautifully and bought another beautiful home in East Richmond Heights, CA.
This blog is about that tale and where my most intrinsic self is asking me to go. It is about making the steps I take sacred (not religious) but respected and regarded with love. Keeping myself curious and not riddled with bloody self-judgment.
Sometime after Christmas 2016 and a very big conversation with my girls, after a lot of suffering from my internal battlefield, I knew a few things. The first was that where I lived, though beautiful, was not the right place for me. I also knew that I wanted to feel home again. After the relief of admitting I didn’t know what was next, I knew I needed to go home to the Chicago area and it needed to be in April. I had forgotten at the time that April was when I came out here to California. 35 years later, I am going back. Back for at least the month of April and then I am not sure what is next.