Yesterday, I finally unpacked the last of the boxes in my house. I only had a few, but they were looming large enough to keep me in some sort of subliminal state of circling and not quite landing. I've also had a significant pile of things still taking up space at the old Plum Island house. I finally went and grabbed those things as well.
In some ways I've been longing to sink in, but beneath all the deeper layers, in other ways I just haven't been completely ready. The letting go has been happening inch by inch. The move has been as much about the relocation of things as it has been about the redistribution of a significant amount of space inside my heart.
I've been grappling with my own resistance, trying to tease apart all the nuances of grief and loss alongside the tentative feelings of liberation and possibility. I'm challenging my own narratives, trying to see if they still hold up and feel true, right now. The story of codependency is so complex, and it has me looking in new and honest ways at my own relationship with addiction from all sides, without turning away. It's a lot to hold the gaze steady. I'm wondering what supports might help me untangle this a bit more, and I'm grateful to have the grace of friends who are a phone call away offering compassionate stories and wisdom to share.
So I'm trying hard to stay here, right where I am, and not wish I were somewhere else. Sitting in the sun, holding warmth and listening to the waves, is helping me to hold it all.