As I am rebuilding my sites and making changes in my life, I thought this was a great post to share (updated) on this site —
Ten years ago this past May, we shoved everything we could into a moving truck and hauled our kids and pets across country from Georgia to Colorado. We moved because we wanted to. No other reason. Save for my in-laws, whom I do dearly love and miss, there was nothing holding us to Georgia. We didn’t have career jobs (mine could move), we didn’t own our home, and our tiny collection of friends was such that we never saw anyone. Neither my husband or I had ever chosen to live there — we had both just ended up there. Great for meeting and falling in love, but building a life wasn’t what we wanted, not in Georgia. We wanted to choose; we wanted adventure.
And we wanted to leave bad memories behind.
We made the decision to move and then did so within a few months. A leap of faith. Come what may and all that jazz. I have to say, it’s been really, really good. I feel like we existed in Georgia, but now we LIVE in Colorado.
It’s hard to believe ten years have passed already. The children have become adults and are building lives of their own. Grandchildren are in the picture now (number two is here
coming near the end of the year!). We have friends and community. I have a job I love that gives me purpose. I am still writing and still an artist. I am thriving here.
Yet, in this year of celebrating a decade of Colorado living, we find ourselves in a new situation. In so many ways, we are starting over again. Our home is almost completely empty — of kids and fur babies. Soon, we are moving. We’ve needed to move for years but the idea of doing so was often too overwhelming. We chose to stay in a negative situation because … it was easier. But lately, I’ve become bold and refused to bow, so we are punished with forced change. Ah, my favorite. So often in my life, change is forced upon me and I must then finally act. Sometimes I long for it because it’s just what I need.
I too am starting over again, leaning into this new life from this side of healing. From this place of being an adult. It’s all new and strange, full of lessons I didn’t learn earlier in life. I’m way ahead in the parenting department, but so far behind in everything else. It’s all new, sometimes scary trying to figure out who I am in my 40s.
I’ve been watching these beautiful purple tulips slowly drop their petals and I’ve understood the message: it’s time to let go and start over. Stop holding onto what was — a life long ago of raising small children, rushing through the day blindly, cramming in everything from darkness in the morning till darkness late at night. A new life awaits. It looks, feels, and smells a lot like the previous one, but the face in the mirror has changed, and the dreams have shifted, and the children are living their lives. It’s now time for my husband and me, the next phase, the chance to be me and him, not Mom and Dad, but husband and wife and best friends. I’ve been holding so tightly to the terrible idea of change, that I am missing what an opportunity lies ahead. Right now.
At the same time here in the mountains of Colorado, trees are coming into bloom. Bright green leaves decorate our world, and soon the wild flowers will return. As they begin to pop up all over the place, we will be shifting into a new place and a new season of our own. It’s change, renewal, new adventures as we journey into the next ten years. I cannot worry the unknown away, so I must embrace it instead. Let go, start over, and move forward.
If you’re holding onto what was and not leaning into what is, move forward with me. Like the day we loaded up the moving truck and van to head out west, it’s a little scary. Letting go and being OK with moving forward into this new phase, into starting over again in these forties, is not without its trembling, but part of that is excitement. What awaits? I do not know. But until I let go, I won’t.