Different free

There have been a handful of times in my life that I didn’t realize how I was feeling until the feelings stopped. Like not knowing I hated myself because I couldn’t stop eating, until I quit sugar and I stopped eating compulsively. Or not knowing how stressed I was about money and being poor, until I was no longer poor. And it turns out driving is one of those things.  

When I left New York City in my mid 30s, I did not know how to drive. And there were a lot of reasons for that. Most notably that I used to have nightmares as a little kid, from the time I was 4 or 5, about having to drive and not knowing how. And I had built driving up to be a very scary thing. (I’m sure there is plenty of it in these here archives. I was already writing this blog for years when I learned to drive.) so when I moved to New York City at 21, I was relieved I was never going to have to learn how to drive.

But about 11 years ago I did learn how to drive at 38. Since then I have driven all over the country alone. I can enjoy the time in the car with an audiobook. I don’t hate driving.

But I really do hate having to drive. I hate the experience of having to do anything that requires a car. I don’t really even know what it is that I don’t like. Because I am so grateful to both have a car and know how to drive. For my own sense of freedom. For my own ease of getting around. And to be able to live anywhere. Because the other side of not knowing how to drive in NYC also made me know I was “stuck” there.

Now I live in the city because I choose it. I could live in the suburbs. I have done it. 

It is so much easier for me to get out of the house if I don’t have to drive. It feels like so much less of an ordeal to do anything if I don’t have to take the car. I ran 2 errands in less than twenty minutes the other day. Just the driving would have taken me more than 20 minutes in our old house. 

I needed to learn how to drive. I am grateful I had over a decade to get comfortable. To stop being afraid of it, to have the basic skill most Americans need, and to have real freedom. I have no regrets about needing to learn and following through.

Anyway, I haven’t driven in over a week and I feel a different kind of free. 

New becomes normal quickly enough.

Bad news: There are so many personal changes coming at me from my move that I have to sit in a lot of really big emotions. Good news: Who I am becoming is kind of fascinating. Bad news: Fascinating is not boring or easy.

My nervous system is on high alert. None of this is known or safe or expected. 

But also I am very peaceful. I am very clearly where I am supposed to be. I love this home. My husband and my cat love this home. The future is now. 

But nothing changes if nothing changes. And I am already on the other side. I have stepped into something new. Which means that things have already changed. Past tense. In a bunch of ways I had not really noticed until the move was done. 

And in many ways I have not yet caught up. 

I need new protections for my peace. I am making new choices about my accessibility and availability. About what I am willing to be held accountable for and to whom. New choices about the energy I will take responsibility for. I already keep my phone on Do Not Disturb after 7:45 at night to keep my peace. I can choose something like that for my inner peace as well. 

I knew that this move would change me and that I couldn’t know how until it was done. And I am so grateful that I knew to have my panic attacks one little one at a time over the past six months so that I could get here and look square at my life, rather than having a crisis of change now, before I can get to enjoy this new view, literally and figuratively. 

But again, this isn’t exactly the road well traveled for me. It’s scary to consistently confront the changes to the way I see myself deserving to be treated. It takes something to say that my peace is more important than my making other people peaceful. 

So I remember that the fact that it’s uncomfortable just means it’s new. And that new becomes normal quickly enough.

Literal new view

I’m too old for the bandwagon. But not the soccer mom wagon!

I have a soccer mom wagon for my new condo city life and it’s one of my favorite things in the entire world. Because it makes grocery shopping about 73% easier. And grocery shopping is the single most important adulting I do. It is the first thing I do to give myself even the chance to adult. 

If I love my food, I have a better chance of keeping my eating boundaries. If I keep my eating boundaries I have a better chance of keeping my word. If I keep my word I have a better chance of keeping the lights on. If I have kept the lights on, I have a better chance of keeping my eating boundaries. A virtuous cycle.

The ability to keep my word is absolutely on the table when it comes to food for me. And that’s a big deal. Being able to be counted on is reputation. And reputation is important in the kinds of communities I am part of and want to be involved in. 

So back to my wagon. I can keep it folded up for my walk to the store but then I can use it as a cart in the store, I already know how much room I have! I put it on the belt and right back into the wagon. (Note to self to put my bag of reusable, washable bags in my wagon.) Then right back to my building, up in the elevator, and home to put away! No dragging them in two arm loads at a time. No trips to the car! No pressure marks on my arms because I WILL carry all of the heavy bags at one time! DAMMIT!

Grocery shopping will always be important for me. I want to pick my meat and my produce. I want to read ingredients. And getting this newer, easier version of it would absolutely be the cherry on top if I ate cherries! 

What else is catching up with me?

Life has felt like it has been speeding by lately. My entire year has been a whirlwind from the beginning. And here, before the official end of Summer, I (yes “we,” but “This isn’t about him”) have bought a condo, sold a house, paid off all debt and have moved. MOVED moved.

This may not sound particularly exotic if you know me from real life or my blog, and are aware that we move all the time. But that is different. A kind of home away from home. Those places are never meant to be permanent. The “home” is always the stuff in it that has been used in the last place and the last. It’s the sameness of dishes and utensils, sheets and towels (and each other) that make life on the road its own kind of home. 

But this is Home. “Capital H.” 

And it is entirely different. I moved from a two story suburban house with all the trimmings: attic space, a two car garage with a refrigerator in it, a shed with lawn tools, a lawn, a patio, patio furniture, a swing in my back yard and fancy trees in the front. Yes even a picket fence but ours was black.

And now I live in a 2 bed 2 bath high rise with a balcony, a doorman, elevators, a pool, and minimal storage. As I was forced to look at my life through new lenses, and I was forced to examine, yet again, my ever evolving priorities. 

This move is a huge culture shift. One that feels so right for me, and also changes so much about my day to day life. 

From the outside all this happened between the beginning of May and the end of August. And in terms of actions and logistics, yes. At least I sure did have my fair share of panic attacks in these past 4 months. But I don’t think changes like this happen in the moment. 

I have been changing. And for longer than four months. It’s just now my home caught up. 

I wonder what else is catching up to me.

Hip to the new style

Over the past few weeks I have been experimenting with time. I have had a pulled hip flexor so I couldn’t do my workout. 

And it gave me a chance to play with my schedule. I have had the same morning workout routine for many years. I want to break out of old patterns. Not because they are bad, but because I want to shake up my life and what better way to do that than to disrupt my routines. To do something different.

I am always looking for the next part of my life. Some new growth, a new understanding, new perspectives. I don’t love the experience of change. But I love having changed. Like a lot.

This willingness (however begrudgingly in the moment) to change is a direct result of having my eating under control. Not eating my drug foods forced me to look at reality. The reality of my integrity and my behavior. And with my hormones and emotions not being influenced by sugar and carbohydrates, it was hard to talk myself into continuing a temper tantrum and insisting on being dragged kicking and screaming. It was easier to be a grown up. Also less embarrassing.

The more time I spend with my sugar addiction arrested, the better I am at life. I am more peaceful, have a good sense of (not religious) faith, I know how to be a good friend, and a good community member. And the more I understand what I care about, the better I can use my time going forward into a new life.