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A perfect day for doing the unstuck.

tec

I’m a little of the mind, in this exact moment, that personal growth is stupid. I’m a little stompy about it. I’m a little salty.

I’m leaning into the (perceived) (temporary) inconvenience of having growth.

I wanted a morning.

And I didn’t get said morning. Because I can’t control how other human beings spend their time or how they process information. And I wouldn’t want control of that. I’m good to not have control of that. And also, when there is such a strangely skewed processing of things, I just….

I have to stop to breathe.

And maybe cry some.

It’s not about what did or didn’t happen. It’s not about the other triggering things this morning–I’ll write about that soon. It’s not even necessarily about the apparent crapshoot of miscommunication. Right now it’s only about how I find the way to constructively put one foot in front of the other and stay true to my path.

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So I’m at the library. Typing. And watching my little watch the fish.

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We must let go to know what’s right.

tec

The Basement Chronicles.

So, we left off at progress on February 6th. Some time ticked on by after this. A woman name Angel posted in a group that she needed accountability for a three day decluttering party and I love that shit, so I was giddy to volunteer. Luckily she was down for texting and I could bypass fb messenger. Decluttering while I knew she was decluttering was really motivated and I got a lot accomplished.

Progress #2. (2.12)

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The following day Angel and I texted back and forth and I was telling her I want an empty basement. Not entirely empty. I want the storage shelves to contain storage. And then I want the rest empty, apart from a play area/book nook. She asked me about intent and why I wanted my basement empty. I gave her the spiel about growing up in chaos and hoarder family members and she wisely pointed out that the “nots” of wanting something wasn’t the way to bring about intent. So I came up with:

I want to walk downstairs and have an open space that feels peaceful and relaxing. I want a space that allows me to breathe life into it. Instead of a space that breathes chaos into me.

And then I did progress #3. (2.13)

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My current process is that I’m decluttering the basement in waves. This will not be my only pass through. I’m working my way around to get to everything on the surface. Separate trash from donation from “go through”. Then complete the trash runs and donation drop offs. Then I will start tackling the deeper things.

More progress to come soon!

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Repeat steps one through three.

tec

So. Hello. Welcome to the first edition of The Basement Chronicles.

I’m your host. The Incomparable Asskicker.

Ha. I get so cocky after just a week of action taking. (Okay…a couple weeks…)

Really, above anything else, I’m just really fucking proud of myself. I’m nowhere near done. I haven’t made any trash runs or donations drop offs. But I’m in the game and I’m just doing it and it feels really good.

I have pictures somewhere of my basement from a few years ago. Times it was at its worst or had just recently been organized but was still overflowing with stuff. I’ve never tackled it like this before. I’ve never led with such intent.

This is what it looked like February 6th when I began.

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That pathway was only there so we had room to get a new washer to the other side of the basement the week prior. Previously it had been a much smaller, much more treacherous pathway that was only used when we had to do laundry.

Progress #1. (2.6)

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I cleared off R’s art table because she hasn’t used it in over a year. I made it my “go through these” table. I wanted to have the hard work front and center, but know I didn’t have to put my energy there until I was ready. (I’m still not ready and that’s still perfectly okay.)

More to come of my progress soon! This is so exciting!

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Like shooting stars.

tec

I was driving and L was talking about going to visit Grandma. This is how our conversations usually go.

L: How we get there?
me: Well, it’s pretty far away. We could drive there.
L: Okay!
me: But that would take a long time. We could fly.
L: Ma! We don’t have wings!!
me: You make a good point, sir. We’d have to take an airplane.
L: Where we find one of those?
me: The airport.
L: Oh!

It all makes sense now.

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Swan dive.

tec

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I keep fiddling with tectonicdraft related things, but have yet to launch my actual site. I will get there. There is no question. But also, ohmygosh, just freakin’ do it already, would ya?!

I’m currently doing some behind the scenes related things in my life. I’m working on decluttering my basement and my head. I signed up for Kendra Hennessy’s 12 week Your Best Mom Life course. I’m setting goals and connecting. I’m doing the work I’ve always been afraid of, but I’m not afraid.

I feel like I’m on the precipice toward myself.

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Yesterday a child came out to wonder.

tec

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It feels like this was specifically written for me. It is words I haven’t been able to find for myself. It’s not answers. But it’s something.

It’s a spark.

I don’t yet have a real grasp on…who I am. I know the what’s. I know I’m silver lining girl and mom and wife. I know I lead with gratitude and kindness and perseverance. I know I practice and practice and practice.

I know I don’t have a clear grasp of my special qualities and skills. I know Chris rolls his eyes when I say “yeah, but everyone is always working toward active growth and progress!” ….which is apparently not quite true. And then he rolls his eyes again when I say, “yeah, but I had no choice to keep going!!” Which…again, apparently, not true.

But I don’t know these things. I thought everyone just kept reaching for more self-awareness and growth. I didn’t know “just keep swimming” was a suggestion.

So here I have these, apparently, special attributes. And a huge lack of confidence to go with them. Apparently I’m super self aware, but only to my weaknesses.

So I’m on a ladder.

And I see soooooooo many people above me. And so many people below me. The people who are also working toward having some of their shit together and who are making so much money. And the people who have no shit together and are raking it in. The people decluttering, but not to the best of my ability (super vulnerable moment here where I admit my judginess. Which I totally realize stems solely from my own insecurity…). Or worse yet, they’re not decluttering to the best of their ability! And they don’t even care! (vulnerable moment #2 because fuckin’ a, other people are none of my business and I know this and I’m making them my business anyway!) The people who are drowning in depression or anxiety or addiction. The people drowning in their spouse’s addictions. The people who sound like they’re sucking up to people I admire and having their response be eaten up. Me, being publicly vulnerable, and reaching out to these same people I admire, and having their responses feel lacking when I confide. Then I second guess myself and wonder if I sounded….sucking up-esque.

Ohmygosh, I’ve just gone back and reread what I wrote and it all sounds exhausting! There are so many people on the ladder and I haven’t learned how to turn my brain off about them! Or about myself!

Mostly, not turning my brain off has only served to make me feel inferior. And then I constantly have this sense of “I can’t do anything right” when it comes to interacting with others. And all I want is to connect with people and all I’ve managed so far is to make that impossible.

I lead with love on the surface, but below the surface I am waiting in fear for the next person to pounce me and put me in my place or tell me I’m wrong or that I’m no good.

I feel like I’m getting closer. I feel like the puzzle pieces are moving around and a clearer picture is trying to come into focus. I can feel the uncomfortable forces of change stirring around me–stirring within me. I know it’s time to dig deep and lean into it. I know I’m scared. I know it’s worth it. I know, one day, I will feel worth it.

I need to step off the ladder.

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Burst like white light.

tec

It’s my birthday. And I’m upstairs making pizzas for everyone while my husband is downstairs trying to perfect a song he wrote for me, which is my present, I’m assuming, whenever he is comfortable enough with it to come back upstairs.

And, yes, of course, I’d always prefer the time with him. But I love the notes wafting upstairs. I love how they envelop me even when his arms can’t. I love how I can feel his love even when his fingers are playing his guitar instead of me. I love that he is trying to perfect something that is already perfect as is. That’s what his love looks like. And I’m certain I’ll love the gift he’s giving me, but that alone is gift enough.