Leaning in and stepping on FEAR

I love Brene Brown. I would love to meet her and have a chat over coffee about authenticity and vulnerability. I think she'd be wonderfully supportive and a great asset to have around this week. But I don't know Ms. Brown...and all I can say is that this has been one hell of a week!

Emotionally.

Physically.

I have cried more times than I can count...all publicly...and all unabashedly (this is new for me). At one point a friend (whom I had already cried on and hugged publicly earlier in the week) saw me at the grocery store and asked how I was doing, and this was my answer...

"I'm better, good, today, better, ok, today good, ok." 

Thankfully I think she only caught the first part of my odd ramble because I continued to walk and smile...until that moment I thought I was ok, it was right about then that I realized...nope...still not ok. (Thanks Kelly, that's two crazies you got out of me this week!)

We are so excited about this next step in our lives, but we majorly underestimated the physical and emotional toll it was going to take on us. Jon is retiring from his dream career after 23 years, 10 years shy of what he planned on. I am leaving a place I love and people I love. My children are leaving the place that they really know as home. And it's really really hard!

Lean into it.

So I'm taking advice from other bloggers out there...the first one come from Be More With Less, and it is Lean Into It. (And I am trying.) Instead of falling into old habits; hiding, closing up and in, getting anxious and taking it out on my loved ones...I am leaning into it. I'm talking about it, I am staying active, I am making sure I see everyone, and I am laughing, crying, talking, hugging...and anything else that will help me through this part of the journey. 

Use fear as a stepping stone.

You're gonna have fear anyway, right? Might as well use it to your advantage! This advice comes from Tuesdays with Laurie, and I LOVE it. Yes, step on it. Be afraid, then walk right up on and over the fear. Right now I'm picturing the ramp up to the ferry on Wednesday, instead of steps. Whatever works, right? Every time I begin to panic about what we're doing, I will picture myself walking right up that ferry ramp of fear and doubt.

I still know that what we're doing is right for us. I know it's right for Jon to slow down and be a full time member of our family again. I know that we don't get many chances in life to slow down and focus on happiness, joy, fun, love and family. I know that the biggest regret of my life (maybe the only) would be NOT DOING THIS RIGHT NOW. 

I know in the deepest parts of my body that this is right...

but it's still hard.

Goodbye M/V Wanderlust

I should know better than to write while emotionally drained. (It's kind of like going to the grocery store when you're hungry...except, the exact opposite) After 14 hours of cleaning, moving, and getting the boat ready to ship north, we were literally exhausted. Then this morning we went out to watch the harbormaster crew strap her up and tow her off.

Sigh.

She was our home. The best home I've ever had, and I've had a lot. We will miss her so much, and I think we will always think of her as the home that made us the family that we always wanted to be.

But last night at 10 pm as I was walking across the dock in the rain with my two sobbing kids, I thought to myself "what the hell are we doing?!?!"

Then I remembered three very important things;
1) We're living our best life.
2) Leaving a place you love is hard.
3) Exhaustion is awful, a good night's sleep can put many things right.

The morning came, we watched the boat go, and it was still hard. But we're still here, still standing, and using it as an opportunity to grow together even more.

I know what we're doing is right for us. I know it deep down in places where only right things live; where hope, love, forgiveness and compassion are. But...it still feels hard right now. We have two weeks in the hotel/apartment that is (literally) three times the square footage of our boat. It's nice, having a little space again, but I feel far away from the kids as they are playing upstairs. I can't even hear them...I miss being able to hear them at all times! Thankfully our camper is ready for us, all we have to do is go get her...and once again I will be able to hear my kids play. I think my tiny, wonderful, adorable, cozy houseboat has ruined me for all others. (But don't tell the camper, it will get jealous!)

Goodbye M/V Wanderlust! You will be thought of fondly, toasted well, and remembered forever.