It's Been Brutal- There Were Many Tears But I Think I'll Make It- I Hope

I haven't been wanting to post. I have been struggling with the changes here. The way I feel ripped wide open and lost and spun from all the newness.

My first (and, hopefully, only) venture as a single parent has been burly and I am trying to catch myself and stand up. I keep promising people I am far more balanced than I appear but how are they to know that?
There were a myriad of incidents this week that led smoothly into a culmination of craziness, to the brink of insanity. I was seriously tempted to just step off and have myself a good long nervous breakdown but, somehow, I managed to step back- I don't remember doing it but I did.

Yesterday was the worst- that was the culmination- just days after that doozy of a new moon and on the brink of one of my favorite holidays- Mabon, the Autumn Equinox.

I actually thought, "Screw this crap! I'm done, this was a huge mistake! This is the WRONG thing to do! What was I thinking? All my careful planning and this sucks!"

I called my darling husband and ranted, cried and sobbed harder than I have in a good 8 or 9 years about how I wasn't going to make it through, how I needed to lie down and take a long rest. How I was tired of battling children who each took a different path- all of them seemingly away from household chores and their mother's requests for assistance. How I was cold and it wasn't even winter and we have no heat. How I feel weak and hideously lost in the face of this potent aloneness that haunts my days and evenings.

I am not alone with my children but I am overwhelmed by the responsibility of being their sole care provider. I find myself shying away from the conflicts and the energy needed to keep them going. This move was magical. This wish for a house whose mortgage equaled a car payment every month- something that people shook their heads at- and then to find that- fulfill that wish and be faced with the reality of the dream. Surely I would not follow this long strange path away from financial security and warmer climates and all that is familiar only to lose my mind to solitude and loneliness. Surely that can't be the destiny of this epic trek.
But it felt that way. It felt like the worst mistake ever- something I couldn't take back and remedy. Something that tore our lovely family apart, separating soul mates, children and their father- all for money. The money is the key. How will we survive if we can't pay? That is what it keeps breaking down to.

How will we do this? And my damn earth sign eats away at my trust in the universe until it is tattered and torn and the panic starts.

So, the panic took me- on a long and wild ride that has left me exhausted.

I was so upset that I was certain that skipping the giant organic festival this weekend that draws people from all over, was the right decision. Why would I go? I needed to find a job- My art wasn't selling. Surely I must find something. Now. A fair is not necessary, it's not a need.

But it was. A need, that is.

I woke, got the children off to school and went to the fair. I drove and drove and then I was there. I stepped out and fought hard not to cry (there've been far too many tears in the last week) and so I walked. I walked past the farmer's market where I stopped for potted rosemary and sage- a splurge I assured myself was worth the medicine I can make from those two plants. I walked past the horse drawn carriages and the musicians, past the amazing organic food wafting at me beckoning me to come and eat, past the many wool vendors and past the artists.

I stopped, I visited-- and suddenly I realized how not alone I am. These artists, these brialliantly beautiful tree hugging, art making, wool spinning, yarn knitting, organic food growing, natural food cooking, clothing making, dirt loving, nature loving people-- these were my people. The ones that inspire me to be better and more evolved. The ones whose houses smell like a co-op and nag champa or just nature and drying herbs and brown rice. These are the people who grow and make their own medicine. These are my definition of hippie-- and I could suddenly breathe.

So far from my beloved city, the place of my familiar, I found familiar. I walked in, and among, familiar-- and I smiled (and tried not to cry).

As hard as this is turning out to be, I am beginning to believe again that this will be worth it. That we are, in fact, headed towards the light that will bouy our spirits up through the days, months and years and that we will find our joy- even if it sometimes seems that this road is impassable. That in the face of the darkness, we will always find the light- and ever evolve towards it, spiraling upwards in our ascent.