In my last post, before I fell off the face of the planet, I shared that we were moving to Vermont. We came to that decision for a variety of reasons, the biggest of which was that we wanted to create a simpler, more sustainable life for ourselves. You've heard it a million times before-- having a kid changes everything. And, after having Hugo 3 years ago, our priorities shifted. We wanted to be in a smaller town, with a lower cost of living, where community was strong and valued.
I had also been looking for a way to make my business bi-coastal for years, and a move to New England seemed like the most obvious answer.
In my mind, this cross-country move was going to be smooth and easy, networking would happen naturally and jobs would fall into my lap. I'd skip over that whole not-having-any-friends part because I already have family here, so I'd never feel lonely. And traveling between coasts for work every 4-6 weeks would be an adventure, rather than unsettling and guilt-ridden.
I didn't bank on feeling so displaced and untethered for so long. I didn't realize that, while traveling back to Seattle on a regular basis for work is DEFINITELY exciting and fulfilling, it's also heart-breaking every time I have to say goodbye to my son who doesn't understand why I can't work closer to where we live. I didn't realize that, every time I returned to Vermont after a trip to Seattle, I would feel anxious and utterly disoriented.
I didn't know how hard it would be to be the sole-income earner in our home, and how terrifying it would be to give up our home and our lives in Seattle and fling ourselves off a cliff into fate's hands. I thought I would feel taken care of by the universe, and that the pieces would magically fall into place.
Don't misunderstand- there have been (and are) wonderful parts to this change: finding the amazing old home we now live in, the people we've met who feel like they've been part of our lives for years, the four very distinct seasons in this part of the country and the utter beauty and charm of New England that never gets old for me. This move was absolutely not a mistake. We have no regrets.
But I can't lie-- it is hard.
It's painful and humbling, after running a successful business for many years, to feel like I am starting from scratch. In Vermont, (and New England) in many ways, I am starting from the very beginning again: networking, trying to get my name out there, playing the part of an extrovert when I am so very much an introvert.
Suddenly, I am doubting myself, questioning my choices, fearing that I am not good enough. It feels like going through adolescence all over again, being desperately concerned that people like me and trying to convince them that I am worth taking a chance on.
Throughout this whole change, I have also been dealing with some very painful health issues in my family. My mother-- my rock, my biggest advocate and my constant support-- has been suffering from fairly rapid memory loss over this past year. The reasons for this are unclear, and the obvious culprits have been, so far, ruled out. But for us, her family, this past year has felt like a slow, brutal death. A drawn-out loss of one of the very most important people in our lives. It has been absolute hell.
There is something that happens to your faith, to your belief in God or Buddha or the angels or just, simply, the goodness of the universe when you lose your sense of being taken care of in the world. When you realize that someone- whether it's your parents or your higher power-- no longer has your back, and that nobody is going to catch you when you fall. You realize you are alone, and you are a grown up. All of a sudden, you are an adult in the world, in a whole new way than you were before.
It feels like an enormous spiritual crisis. And it sucks.
Why am I writing all this on my blog? Well, I've never been great at small talk. I would much rather be real than pretend I'm living a life I'm not. We see too much fabricated perfection on social media every day, making us feel like we are not quite measuring up. We don't need any more of that B.S.
So, here I am. Back to my blog, and being real.
I am going to be posting regularly from here on out. Twice a week, to be exact. I may not have any words, but there will be photos! Lots of photos. So, please come visit.
Speaking of photos, I will leave you now with some of the little guy who makes all the struggle worth it.
But I can't lie-- it is hard.
It's painful and humbling, after running a successful business for many years, to feel like I am starting from scratch. In Vermont, (and New England) in many ways, I am starting from the very beginning again: networking, trying to get my name out there, playing the part of an extrovert when I am so very much an introvert.
Suddenly, I am doubting myself, questioning my choices, fearing that I am not good enough. It feels like going through adolescence all over again, being desperately concerned that people like me and trying to convince them that I am worth taking a chance on.
Throughout this whole change, I have also been dealing with some very painful health issues in my family. My mother-- my rock, my biggest advocate and my constant support-- has been suffering from fairly rapid memory loss over this past year. The reasons for this are unclear, and the obvious culprits have been, so far, ruled out. But for us, her family, this past year has felt like a slow, brutal death. A drawn-out loss of one of the very most important people in our lives. It has been absolute hell.
There is something that happens to your faith, to your belief in God or Buddha or the angels or just, simply, the goodness of the universe when you lose your sense of being taken care of in the world. When you realize that someone- whether it's your parents or your higher power-- no longer has your back, and that nobody is going to catch you when you fall. You realize you are alone, and you are a grown up. All of a sudden, you are an adult in the world, in a whole new way than you were before.
It feels like an enormous spiritual crisis. And it sucks.
Why am I writing all this on my blog? Well, I've never been great at small talk. I would much rather be real than pretend I'm living a life I'm not. We see too much fabricated perfection on social media every day, making us feel like we are not quite measuring up. We don't need any more of that B.S.
So, here I am. Back to my blog, and being real.
I am going to be posting regularly from here on out. Twice a week, to be exact. I may not have any words, but there will be photos! Lots of photos. So, please come visit.
Speaking of photos, I will leave you now with some of the little guy who makes all the struggle worth it.
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