On Making Moves

I've always had a penchant for knowing what's ahead on my path. When I make a choice, I know exactly what my goals are and how long it'll take me to reach them. I may not know the obstacles that will come before me on the journey to manifestation, but I know my direction.

I think that's why it's always surprising when I find myself floundering in a quagmire, struggling to become unstuck. It makes the goal feel temporarily more distant, less attainable - like I've reached the limits of my ability to transform, to adapt, to become.

These little mud-pit moments have become ever-so-frequent these past few years, stopping me up not too long after I begin. In some ways it's a symptom of complacency, of uncertainty. What if these goals I've been working so hard for aren't actually serving me? What happens if I change my mind? I get caught up in the vision, the fantasy of what it could look like, and forget to remind myself of the way it feels, the core lesson of it, the reason I chose this path in the first place.

When I took the leap to move out of NYC and back to South Carolina, I knew many things. I was aware that I was sacrificing some level of independence - both financially and physically. I saw three goals for myself: to learn the lessons I needed to learn from my family that I wasn't able to as a child and reclaim my foundation; to become a healthy individual in mind, body, heart and spirit; to learn how to drive.

I knew that this goal would take roughly two years to fully manifest. What I did not anticipate was the power of intention, and how the Universe would interpret my desires. I didn't know what it would put in my path to prepare me to attain those goals. I wasn't aware that it would mean I'd be on unemployment for 6 months and blow all my money placating the comforts of my inner children while learning patience, pace, how to dissect the Subconscious, and to re-imagine family dynamics. I wasn't aware that my mother - whom I had decided long ago not to speak to - would uproot her family for the opportunity to be closer to her estranged daughters, ex-husband and ex-mother-in-law. I didn't know that my dad would break my heart, or that I needed it to be broken. I didn't know my cat would die, that I'd reclaim my love for art, that I'd rebrand my business or that I'd meet a true friend.

I didn't know it would mean confronting long-term health issues that I was too afraid or too focused on financial survival to deal with. I didn't know they would disrupt the way I was used to working, relating with others, or the way I spent time with myself. I didn't know my dark personal narratives would all fall away and that I'd become something new in the process.

Starting over is incredibly scary. I knew where I was going, I knew what I was doing, why I was doing it and for whom - but I didn't know how starting over would look, what it would demand of me, the payments I needed to make or the sacrifices I'd willingly give of myself to do so. Living in NYC, I'd been convinced that stopping would mean death, and that I wouldn't be able to live the unconventional life I desired without becoming someone else's inconvenience. I used to tell myself that the 'real world' is far too grueling for such flowery thoughts, and that it was a big joke to be given the ability to dream, to want, to fantasize, to ask for more.

This coming November will mark my two-year anniversary of the move from NYC to SC, and looking back I can see all of the surprising things I had to do and learn in order to get this much closer to my goals. Maybe I don't have a driver's license yet but I have my permit. Maybe I don't fully have my health in order but I've lifted myself out of crushing waves of depression learned more about my body's needs than I ever have.

I've found peace of mind and untangled toxic family patterns that I didn't know existed within me. I learned more about my emotional walls, the way I close myself off to others, and the way I keep myself from achieving my dreams by waiting for someone else to reach out a hand and help me up. I learned how to think for myself, to ask myself what it is I want, to find my space of integrity, to find new ways to define my image of 'success'.

If you're thinking about starting over but find yourself in a mud-pit moment and are afraid of what your new beginning might mean, my advice to you is to 'do it'. That might sound easier said than done, but life is a series of faith-based leaps. You either choose to believe in yourself or you don't - and you can always make up your mind about that part later. Just begin, take a step, a jump, or a gallop towards the person you've always wanted to be. You'll find yourself in ways you've never imagined.