Things often don't make sense to me until I write them down, and yet when life is at its messiest I feel like I lose my words, and then I feel like I lose myself. I don't, of course, but I’ve realised what happens is I abandon myself.
I know deep in my soul places the things that work for me to keep my grounded, the swathe of techniques that help me stay centre in my own life. Things like journaling, breathwork, tapping, massage, visualisation, craft, gratitude, nature, alone time. These tried and tested strategies are the first I throw overboard when the chaos comes. And the chaos will come, that is the inevitable ferris wheel of life. I want to stop getting to December 31st every year and saying, "Wow! This year kicked my butt," because it's meant to, that is the game, no more being surprised by it. No more expectations of the capitalistic strive for balance and a problemless happy existence. It’s not real. It’s made up to make us disappointed and buy more shit. There will be chaos. There will be kicks to the butt, but what I've realised is I want to kick my own butt less.
The last few months life, and me, have kicked my butt.
I’ve had to move house two months earlier than planned into a temporary situation on the Gold Coast. All my belongings are in storage in Brisbane. I'm living out of two suitcases and a couple of washing baskets until I move into my new home. Everything about it is stressful and inconvenient. I've culled seven and a half years of stuff, including oregano from 2015, and churned up memories from the biggest joys, and the biggest heartbreaks that have happened in my life, in that home. I've gotten sick, missed the holiday week I'd planned, and somehow launched a novel, done a book tour, made a theatre work and maintained my work schedule. In every sense the last few months have been a lot. And I'm okay. But I'm empty. I've crashed. I feel like I've lost my lustre. But I haven't. I've just gotten so far away from centre in the sheer fingernail grip to get it all done.
And now the keys are handed in, and I had no plans today at all for the first time in I cannot remember, and I feel like I've taken a deep breath. I am startled by the revelation of needing my tools, my life lines, more in the chaos times than ever, because when the chaos comes I abandon myself and it takes me a while to recalibrate, and I don't ever want to forget them, forget me, again.
Today the words have come.
Goodbye Number Six.
I was a newlywed in this house. Midge grew up in this house, she was only four months old when we moved in. I navigated the brutality of all my fertility stuff in this house, appointments, so many negative tests, a loss. That pain was felt privately, within these walls. I wrote, finished and published three novels in this house. I danced in this lounge room, in this kitchen, in this office, in this bathroom, this bedroom, my dance moves are all over this house. I’ve shared meals with friends, had my heart feel so full, and cried so many tears in this house. I navigated a pandemic in this house. My marriage ended in this house. I put myself back together in full pleasure quest fashion in this house. I fell in love with a Viking in this house. My thirties happened in this house. So much marrow in this house. I am grateful for it all. Because this house is where I learnt how to be this lady I am right now, and I'm so about this lady, even if I forget to meet her needs, but I worked out what those needs were in this house. Whole new cells regenerate in seven years, which means there’s whole parts of my body that are brand new now as I leave this house. Makes sense. I feel new and old all at once.
Goodbye and thank you, Number Six.
There's so much to be grateful for now in this new temporary chaos too. I am safe, I am close to my family, so far in the nine days I've been here I've seen my grandparents on six of those days. One day this time right now is going feel so fucking valuable to me. I have a home. My dog is happy. I have people around me who love and support and want to help me. My stuff is safe. And soon I'll move somewhere brilliant with my dog and my love to weave whole new memories and joys and aches and cells. And I will remember these lessons and in the next bout of chaos I'll stay more in my centre so in the crash I won't feel totally lost, scrambling to find my way back to myself because I'll have written it all down.
The words. Come back to the words. The words are where you are. The words are the truth.
Thank you for witnessing the words. Thank you for witnessing my truth.
Thank you for reading and supporting Pearler, if you want to support me and my writing, why don’t you subscribe? It’s $6 a month. As of next week only subscribers will have access to the audio version of each post and they’ll get an extra post a month. I wanna build this into a beautiful pearly playground where that dream to be a writer fulltime can be realised. Come along with me if you fancy.
What’s Happening…
Have you read my latest novel yet, dears? West Side Honey is out now.
Goodbye Number Six