I recently saw a post from a former colleague that really hit home.
It was a picture of a nearly empty apartment with the statement ‘Sometimes independence and peace starts like this.’
The image mirroring a distinct likeness to my current living situation, minus an embarrassing amount of shoes. 🤷♀️
In the previous version of my life I had created a very welcoming home, rich with the spoils of a comfortable life.
My home was a refuge.
It was a space I kept open for receiving friends and neighbors, in good times and bad.
It was a social hall, a hotel, and a sanctuary.
My home was was my identity.
It was my security blanket.
Yet the very home that gave me and others immense comfort and safety was also an incredible anchor.
My dream of taking a risk to do something adventurous and exciting with my life was weighed down by the nagging question of ‘what do I do with all my stuff?’
My belongings kept me mentally and emotionally chained to a life I had outgrown.
The weight of being trapped by comfort and nostalgia finally lifted when I thoughtfully sold, gifted or donated almost everything I own.
I honored my past by selectively choosing ‘good homes’ for everything to go to.
Despite all the care in dispensing with it all, I don’t miss any of it.
Not one thing.
It wasn’t until I was down to just the very basic essentials for survival that I finally felt free.
By letting go of a lifetime of memories and belongings I created space for a new life.
Now I get to build upon what is and not what was.
This is where the adventure begins.
