Ripping off the band-aid

Three months ago I decided to make a life change.

Two months ago I made a move and changed our life as we knew it.
I left 16 years of memories and the last 4 1/2 years of a life I thought was to be my forever and became the referee between my heart and my brain. I made decisions many called brave and choices many kept saying were the right ones.
I packed up my 7 year old, her hamster, one dog and a few of our most precious belongings and left a life I was comfortable with. No idea if this would work, no back up plan if it didn't, every last penny into the move a lifetime.
I didn't feel brave, in fact I was terrified, ashamed and sad --I felt like I failed.

And why?
Why was this so necessary??
Why such a drastic move?

Mostly because I was drowning, broken and I was starting to lose focus on me and being a good mother, instead I was ignoring me and just showing up to play mother.
I just plain needed to hit the restart button.
I did love the life I had. I loved the people in my life. I loved mostly everything about my life. I loved it because it was comfortable and it was what I knew. It was a life I created and I knew how to do THAT life.  I didn't have to be held accountable to anyone but me. Then mostly I ignored me and I did what made everyone else happy and I was okay with that. I was comfortable with that because I am a born people pleaser. If they're happy.....I am happy....even if I really wasn't.  No one saw it, so I put a band-aid over my heart and carried on.

Oh the precious valuable heart.

Matters of the heart can be such a complicated subject, I won't even begin to pretend I grasp all its complexities.
I do know that when we are lead by the heart vs. the brain we ignore pesky little red flags or words of wisdom and discretion because we think we know better or can make a difference. We make emotional choices and not intentional ones. We think we can outsmart the brain to make it follow the hearts path....but it always knows better. We put a bandage over problems/wounds/hurts and wait for it to get better.

What happens is we tend to forget sometimes those problems/wounds/hurts need medicine, they need to be cleaned and even left open to let the fresh open air help it heal. We leave the band-aid on too long and it gets pretty nasty underneath.  We are too afraid to rip the band-aid off because we know it will hurt....so we slow the healing process. We wait.

I waited.

I waited because was scared.

I knew that the move was like ripping off the band-aid and I'd feel uncomfortable & it would hurt. That hurt would be exposed. I would be exposed.
But it had to come off.....I had to move.

So I moved.

And you know what? It was painful. It IS painful. It's yucky and it was uncomfortable to say the least. The first month after the move I cried every night (I only cry sometimes now--ha).  I was depressed and struggled daily to keep going. I doubted my choice. I regretted my choice. I was alone for the first time, yes alone even with my girl and part of my family here, but I truly felt alone....no one to hold my hand. That scared me.  That was when I realized I had lost myself & I needed to figure things out quick because there is a tiny person that I've been entrusted with who continues to grow with or without me.

So the band-aid has been ripped off...

This move is part of a bigger grander picture.
One that I'm not really comfortable with yet.
And if I'm being completely honest, right now I hate it.
I do know in order for the wounds to heal, I have to take care of them, clean them & let them air out.
But NO ONE else can do that part but me....
Ugh. Me.
I'm being forced to like myself, to take care of myself on the inside.
So far I am unimpressed with myself but I'm sure as time goes on my impression of me will change. At least that is the hope.

I encourage you to get uncomfortable.
I encourage you to rip the band-aid off and care for those wounds.
Sure it'll hurt but after a while....the pain does start to ease.