I had an incredible session with a client this morning. I wanted to share some of that incredible here because I think all of us can benefit from the reminders.  He’s clearing out some clutter from his office and is struggling with seeing his progress. Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent to help him notice and remember what he’s accomplished:

Give yourself credit for your awareness, for your willingness to be in the moment. You have reached a point where you are open to viewing the world differently. That is AWESOME!

Remember, there is always more to do. That does not detract from the value of what you have already accomplished. Lift a heavy box and really feel the weight of it. Feel the strain in your arms and back.  Place it in the garbage/recycling and notice the absence of that weight. Revel in that absence. The release of that weight from your psyche is an accomplishment in which to take joy!

Worry is like punishment for a deed you have not yet committed (this wisdom shared by a dog with an incredible animal communicator). How can we be held accountable for that which has not occurred? Do not let the future hold you prisoner. Your power is in this moment – don’t give it away to the future.

Perception is reality. The miracle is that we get to choose how we perceive the world. We can enjoy our really good cup of coffee or we can worry about how it will taste in 10 minutes. The power to choose. The power to decide.

In this moment, choose to let the chains fall away. Be free.

Love and Light,
Rainie

p.s. As an affirmation that I needed to share this, the following quote showed up when I previewed the post:

Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.
- Jim Morisson -

If you want to read the story from the beginning, start here. If you want to read from the middle, start here. If you only want to know what happened just before this, start here.

Because the cat was not missing but merely hidden, we started out a little later than we’d planned. But, because the truck was much more powerful than expected (I cannot recommend Penske moving trucks highly enough!), we were doing fine on time. We hauled booty (and furniture!) through the mountains with no trouble.

We arrived in Wilmington around 3pm. The day was warm and sunny. We found the house with little trouble. A call to the landlord revealed that the door was unlocked and the key was on the kitchen counter. We took the dogs for a long walk to help get them settled. We called my sister and BFF and planned for them to come down the next day.

Hubby and I brought in the essentials – towels, some dishes, dog crates, litter box, pet food, and birds. We also unloaded the bed and the couch. We changed clothes and went to a local bar, sitting outside sipping beer for him and a glass of wine for me. We got to bed early, finally feeling the exhaustion that comes with stress and driving for hours.

The next day, Sunday, the truck was unloaded in minutes with the help of my family, my friend, and her husband. We sat out on the porch and chatted for a couple hours. My friend brought a housewarming box, loaded with things one might need the first few days in a new place – toilet paper, hand soap, paper towels, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, condiments, Pepsi. Her thoughtfulness was really touching! Sitting around with everyone helped me feel safe and reminded me of why I wanted to come here in the first place.

Later, when everyone had gone home, my husband and I went down to the beach. We were only 5 minutes from the ocean. We walked bare foot along the shoreline, our jeans rolled up to avoid getting them wet. But for the fact that he’d fly back to Cincinnati the next morning, I would have felt completely joyful and content.

Back at the house, I checked on his flight itinerary. That’s when I saw my glaring error. I had booked the flight for the following Monday! He immediately called the airline, paid massive amounts of money to be put on the right flight, and aside from the concern that we couldn’t truly afford the upcharges, relaxed for our last evening together for some undefined amount of time.

We were up early the next day, stress, uncertainty, and sadness keeping us both from a sound sleep. I checked my email and received an alert from the airline. His flight had been cancelled.  *insert doomsday music here*

I called the airline and learned all other flights out of Wilmington to Charlotte were fully booked until late in the evening. A connecting flight to Cincinnati would arrive around midnight. Since he had arranged for a friend to pick him up from the airport and the pet sitter wasn’t checking on the cats that evening, this was a problem.

The airline suggested another airport, in Jacksonville. I explained that I had no idea where that was. I soon learned that Jacksonville is about an hour from Wilmington but if he made that flight, he would still catch his original connecting flight in Charlotte. We’d need to turn in the moving truck very soon and get on the road to make it in time.

It was a dreary day, raining in spurts, and cloudy. We found the small airport in Jacksonville to be packed, probably in part due to the cancelled flight in Wilmington. We also found that his flight had been delayed by about an hour. At first the delay seemed like a bad development. But, as we sat down for lunch together in the airport diner, I felt immensely grateful for the additional time to listen to his voice, feel his arm around my shoulders, and look into his face.

As he stood in line for security, I felt very small and weak. As he passed through the gate where I could not follow, I was unable to hide my tears and those who know me well will tell you, I’d rather take a beating than cry in public. This entire journey thus far has brought me to tears, in public, on more ocassions than all other events in my life put together. I’ve said from time to time, I never imagined crying so much over getting what I wanted.

And I am getting closer to what I want. My husband has a job interview here next week. He could be living here with me by Christmas. That will bring a whole new set of issues to tackle (integrating cats who dislike dogs into a dog filled house, all of us living in a third of the space we’ve lived in for the past 8 years). It will also bring new lessons and new joys.

There have been many times that my husband and I have questioned whether the difficulty of this transition meant we were on the wrong path. There were many times I threw my hands up and said, “this is just too hard!”. Then I went on to do what needed doing next. Because I didn’t know what else to do.

I’m very much looking forward to the day I wake up and realize that our lives are once again uneventful. I look forward to falling back into routines and rituals that have filled my days for years. I look forward to having my family all together under the same roof again.

When I was deciding to write this all down, I meditated about it for a few moments. What I’d like to leave you with is what I got from that meditation:

Just because your path is difficult does not mean you’re on the wrong path. It just means there are lessons you need to learn along the way.

If you want to read the story from the beginning, start here. If you want to read from the middle, start here.

We picked up the rental truck Thursday morning. My husband had clients to see so I started loading the boxes. When he got back home that evening, we started loading furniture. We’d disassemble my bed in the morning, load it on the truck, and be off.

Friday, to my surprise, things went smoothly. Then I realized I hadn’t taken any clothes from the dresser – one of the first large items we’d loaded onto the truck. We moved nearly everything and I retrieved some clothing to wear the next couple of days. We started loading the rest of my furniture and then my husband asked where the dogs’ leashes were. They were in the cabinet – the second of the large items we’d loaded on the truck. We moved nearly everything again and I retrieved the dogs’ leashes. We took apart the bed and loaded it. I put the birds (oh yes, I also have 2 finches!) in one of the dog’s crates, packing pillows around them so they’d not be thrown about in the back of the truck. We put the litter box and my 17 year old cat in the cabin of the truck; he’d be riding with my husband. We got the dogs into my car and we were suddenly ready.

The gravity of it all was beginning to hit me. I was leaving my house. I was leaving the city I’d lived in for the past 13 years. I was leaving my spirtual group and a long list of dear friends that I’d not even had time to call to say good bye. I’d be sending my husband back to this house alone (but for the two cats that would stay with him). I’d be nearly 700 miles away. In a new city. Alone. My fear was overwhelming.

But he got in and started the truck. I got in the car. We were on our way. The dogs settled down fairly early in the trip. We’d drive until we reached our hotel and stop for the night. We’d get up in the morning and be at the rental house in the early afternoon. My sister, niece and nephew would come to help us unload the truck. My best friend and her husband would also stop by. Despite not resembling anything I had imagined this move might look like, we were on our way.

We stopped a few times to stretch our legs, grab food and drink, potty, and walk the dogs. We stopped for the night and the dogs were actually very well behaved. The cat seemed quite traumatized all day but he was quickly inspecting all corners of the room and nibbling from his dish.

We were up early as the dogs got restless and wanted to walk. Trying to keep them quiet at 6am caused us to be rushed. We kept them outside for about 15 minutes since they’d been couped up all the day before and would be again all day. A check on the birds showed they’d survived the chilly night; they flitted around drinking and eating, seeming none the worse for wear.

Back in the room, I started getting the food for the dogs and cat ready. But there was no cat. He was not in the bath tub nor under the sink. The bed sat on a wooden frame that went all the way to the floor, offering no place to hide. He simply wasn’t in the room. We figured he must have slipped outside when we were hurrying to get the dogs out.

For the next two hours, we walked in widening cirlces around the hotel, dogs in tow. We called and called for the cat. We got silence in return, nothing more than chilly breezes and the sounds of traffic rushing by in the distance. By 8:30, we decided we needed to go. Seventeen years of Meethos the Cat seemed to be over; he was lost to me.

At the office, where I turned in our key card, I mentioned that the cat must have escaped. Meaning to leave them my name and number in the event he turned up, I was taken aback when all three people behind the desk said in unison, “he’s under the bed!”. I explained that there was no “under the bed”. But they assured me the cats always found a way and suggested we lift up the mattresses. I hurried back to the room, lifted up a corner of the mattress, and there he was. On the opposite side, of course. My husband lifted that side and I plucked him up. More tears, this time from relief.

We packed up the dogs and the cat and away we went, into the mountains and through the woods, to a rental house unknown.

Next Stop: Dreams and Realities

I wanted to share part one of the latest leg of my journey. Much has happened in a short time so bare with me if I ramble; I’ll circle back around, I hope!

I think the last time I posted something personal was in May, in my “In Spite of Fear” post. If you’re curious what set this current train in motion, read that post. I’ll try to pick up where that post leaves off.

We did, in fact, get our house on the market. It took us until September but it looks really good! I also mentioned that there was no solid plan in place to guide us through this move. I’m actually grateful about that now, since I could not have possibly imagined how things have played out to this point.

Around Labor Day, we listed our house with an agent. The following week, I was let go from my part time job. On my very last day at work, I got a phone call from a potential employer in Wilmington, NC, to whom I’d sent my resume when I learned my job was ending. I scheduled an interview and flew down the following week.

It was a wretched week to be in Wilmington! While the summer had drought like conditions, much of the area saw wide spread flooding that week. I had a falling out with the sister who was supposed to drive me from my family’s home to Wilmington. It was the weekend of my nephew’s first camping trip with Boy Scouts so my other sister was away. I tried to rent a car but couldn’t because I don’t have a credit card. I finally borrowed a car to make it to my interview and drove in torrential downpours the entire way. In four days, the sun never shined. The sky was dark and the rain poured; it felt like a bad omen.

The interview itself went very well, I felt. They asked questions that made sense to me and I had good answers. The position was advertised as temporary, though, an open continuous type posting. I asked when they thought they would make a decision on hiring and was told it would probably be several weeks.

I flew home and started looking for positions in Cincinnati.

About two weeks later and no closer to finding a job, I got a call offering me the temporary position. We discussed when I would start. At first we talked about two weeks, then three, then decided two would be sufficient. The next day, I drove to North Carolina with the intention of finding a house to rent that would accomodate my dogs and cats. I had no idea just how difficult that would be.

My husband and I had discussed what we could afford to pay for a rental house. It was entirely unrealistic. We agreed we wouldn’t live in a mobile home, that we’d need 3 to 4 bedrooms, and a number of other criteria. For three days solid, I drove from rental agency to rental agency. No one seemed interested in renting to someone with THREE dogs and THREE cats. Except for some mobile home owners. At night, in the hotel, I searched craigslist, called people who never called back, and emailed people who never replied. I looked at a number of houses that would accept one dog and one cat. All wanted 12 month leases. All wanted massive pet deposits as well as rental deposits. I left one rental office abruptly when I burst into tears. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and my knees were buckling. I called home in tears, sometimes 3 or 4 times a day. I returned to Cincinnati feeling deflated.

I called the HR officer to request that additional week to get myself moved. It was not to be; another person was also starting with me and we’d need to begin training together. My ten days to move melted to three.

I continued to search for a rental in Wilmington via the internet. I emailed a prospective landlord and was brutally honest. I have three dogs and three cats. I need a fenced yard and I need it THIS weekend. Much to my surprise, he said he had a couple places that might suit me. And he only wanted $100 total for a pet deposit. I sent him a partial deposit by paypal and emailed that I’d see him Saturday.

I rented a moving truck. I booked my husband’s flight back to Cincinnati. I reserved a hotel room that would allow pets. I packed and packed and packed. Then I packed some more.

Next Stop: Lost and Found and Lost

My husband and I are currently in the process of preparing our house to put on the market. Our goal is to move to Wilmington, North Carolina, to live nearer to my family and to enjoy shorter, milder winters. We haven’t mapped out this move; we don’t have jobs waiting nor have we made an offer on a house in Wilmington. We aren’t exactly sure when our house will sell or if there is a market for the work we do.

We have met with some criticism of our non plan to move. One former associate described it, with a chuckle, as “so, ‘in theory’, you’re moving to North Carolina”. That’s an understandable reaction. For some people, the idea of not having a sure plan in place is just too anxiety provoking to pursue.

This is not to say that we are not experiencing some anxiety about the uncertainties ahead. There are many questions unanswered, such as:

• Can we sell this house for enough to buy another one in NC?
• How long will it take us to ramp up hubby’s therapy practice to sustainable levels?
• Where will we live if we can’t find an affordable house in NC right away?

And then there are all of the “what if” questions:

• What if we run out of money?
• What if we can’t find jobs/enough clients to provide for our needs?
• What if, what if, what if…?

There are times when I feel completely overwhelmed by the prospects of preparing about 13 rooms in this house; packing up 13 years of stuff; driving 13 hours with 3 dogs and 3 cats to I don’t know where yet; building up clientele; making new friends; finding the ‘right’ grocery store, veterinarian, family physician, internet provider, cable company, etc.

Clearly, the easiest thing to do is stay put. I’m not unhappy here and I know where the things I need and want are located. I can visit my family a couple times a year. Why put ourselves through all this?

We put ourselves through this because I want very much to not only visit my family, but to be an active part of their lives again. I want to decide on a whim to go to the beach and be there in 20 minutes. I want to live close enough to my best friend to go shopping together. I want her toddler son to know me, not from a picture but from the sound of my car pulling into her driveway.

About 18 months ago, I worked for the local government. I’d been there eight years. I’d recently been promoted. My youngest stepson was a senior in high school. My husband’s practice, though new, was beginning to flourish. Things were going well and I was under the illusion that I was in control of my life.

Then, I was suddenly laid off. My stepson went off to college three hours away. My nieces and nephew continued to grow up without us really knowing each other. My best friend, after a complicated pregnancy, had a baby. I took a job for which I am not well suited. I found myself very afraid and without that illusion of control.

We can all certainly influence our future. We can set our intentions, make plans, take action. We can decide to do nothing – because we cannot predict the outcome. We can allow fear to hold us hostage – in jobs that suck our souls away, in relationships that cause our hearts to wither, in addictions that dull our pain, in habits that no longer serve us.

Change is scary! Change leads us into the unknown. What I’ve found though is that change happens whether we are prepared for it or not. Even when we have all our plans in place, change happens and washes away our plans like waves on the beach erase our footprints.

I do not advocate that everyone set an intention to move out of state without solid plans. In fact, while my plans are sketchy now, I’ll fill in the blank areas as things move along. What I won’t do is do nothing until conditions are optimal or wait until my fear subsides. Because conditions will never be optimal and my fear will probably remain. My feeling now is that I don’t have enough information to make a plan; to make an “etched in stone” plan now would simply frustrate me because it would…well, change!

Fear comes from your ego. The ego will always vote for the status quo. The ego is deeply invested in the illusion of control, keeping you small and confined, in maintaining what is. Fear is what stops people from skydiving, from visiting a foreign country, from reaching beyond the known and the comfortable to the unknown and potentially awesome. Fear says, “It’s risky. You might not like it. You might get hurt. You might FAIL. You might end up homeless and alone”.  And it’s right; you might. It’s certainly safer to stay right here.

My hope for you is that you will -

Take control of the things in your life that you can reasonably control, such as:

• How you dress
• Updating your resume
• Write down your dream and visualize yourself living it

 That you will attempt to influence the things in your life you cannot control, such as:

• Prepare well for the interview
• Seek out and connect with people who work where you want to work
• Watch for and take any opportunity that presents itself to promote your dream

I hope you will put fear aside, that you’ll test the waters, that you’ll be willing to fail.