Where Will I Go From Here?

Where Will I go from here?

I am sitting at my parent’s house in my childhood bedroom that looks nothing like it used to, Thank God. They completely transformed this space to make it more appealing to guests and probably themselves, and less like a teenager expressed their angst here. It’s filled with peaceful earth tones and some pops of red, and it allows anyone who enters to rest easily. There aren’t any big emotions that live in these walls anymore. It’s all cleared away.

I spent the last seven months on a farm in South Haven, Michigan. While there, I was working, living, and observing nature and myself, while learning about business, art, and community. I wrote a bit while I was there, too.

After 15 or so years in Chicago, it was quite a transition (as well as one that surprised me) to leave the bustle of the city and head to a town with 4,000 residents. This wasn’t a change I saw coming, but when it called to me, I listened. It wasn’t a strenuous shift, but I learned a lot through the change of environment. Some of those lessons were about farming. Many were about the dialogue between mind, body, and nature. This dialogue always occurs but can, for some, be easier to hear in the quiet of the country.

It took about three months for my nervous system to calm itself from the constant stimuli and movement that I used to find peaceful. But now I wonder, did I enjoy the noise, or did I find peace when there was chaos around me? Or was it both? Or I went through an evolution, and the city served me for a time, and then I needed a break. Maybe I’ll return to the density, or maybe not, but now I am in the suburbs of Detroit after leaving the farm, and I’m grateful to be here. I am Alive and cradled with warmth. My dog is by my side and my parents are downstairs sewing and watching tv while it snows outside. I’m reminded so much of my childhood during the holidays, and it feels cozy to be here again. This is another surprise.

I never thought I would be (almost) 35 and living at my parent’s house. Though I’m curious if I live here or if I’m staying here for the time being. I thought I went through this when I was 25, returned home from a big trip, and needed to rest for a bit while figuring out my next move. Which I decided on quickly, and before anyone could blink twice, I was off.

Now, one decade later, I am back here again. Is this a failure or something to celebrate? Or is it a bridge from one chapter to the next? Some say that life is cyclical and not linear. We move in a spiral of sorts, revisiting moments that appear to be from the past but are different, and so are we. It’s the same opportunity but takes on another form. We have to look closely to notice the nuanced differences, but they’re there. Slowing down helps to see these differences with clarity. Calming the body can help even more.

I can say with certainty that there are differences between one decade ago and today. A significant difference, and the first and most obvious, is that I am older. Ten years to be exact. I have more wrinkles and softer skin, and my head is home to a handful of persistent grays I allow to stay. My confidence has grown. I’ve worked through and come in contact with some things that have greatly improved my life, and I am proud. For now, I’ll leave it at “some things.”

And after having said all of that, I am still determining where I want to be and when.

All while knowing there’s no point in rushing to the finish line.

I am alive, and I feel inner peace. Some of me wants to feel terrible, behind, or anxious for being here, at my folks’ home, but I don’t. Life isn’t perfect, but I am here, aware, connected to God, and intentional, and I have remembered how to sing, and something about that feels free. On top of that, I am receiving support and love from my family and the neighborhood that I grew up in, a community I was so eager to run away from as fast as I could. But now, I am here with patience, vulnerability and wide open eyes.

For a long time, I floated, ungrounded, between jobs and men and nights of binge drinking. Although, while the day after a heavy night of drinking was more of dragging myself from point a to point b, the floating energy was present. I lacked grounding and stability.

The road has been long and rich, and it continues, Thank God. I sit here, healthy and with a nervous system that is regulated. I no longer escape into booze, relationships, or drama. Because of that, I feel grateful and happy-ish. I am also feeling open. Open to possibilities, new beginnings, and the development of a strong(er) foundation from where so much of my life began, as surprising as it may be. I am revisiting, not with the desire to rush the process and run away again, but with intention and care while speaking clearly, asking for what I need, and maybe even accepting support because we all need it sometimes.

Sometimes we must take a few steps back to take one leap ahead.
At times, we have to slow down to speed up. And sometimes, we must return to our childhood home, surrender to the divine path, and accept it with all its beautiful surprises.

So, rather than “where will I go from here?” with urgency in my voice and anxiety in my hips, rearing to bolt.

It’s “Where will I go from here?” with a rooted body, an open heart, and a knowing that I can keep going, adjusting, and receiving all the good and surprising things along the way.

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