How do you know when it’s time to run?

The last time I packed up all of my belongings and moved, I was running away from my life.  I ran as far as Costa Rica at the age of 24, moved in with my dear friend and her family, got a temporary job as a sports bookie taking bets over the phone, all while trying to learn Spanish and fend off homesickness. 

I didn’t last long in the city of Escazu, before I grabbed my bags and headed to the beach near Jaco.  Living off of beer, tamales (yum), cigarettes and broken Spanish, I discovered spirituality and solitude along the shore of the Pacific Ocean, while trying to figure out who the hell I was.  I talked to myself a lot while walking ankle deep in the waves.  Out loud, giggling, crying and having aha moments while asking the clouds what the hell I was supposed to do next. 

That time in my life set a foundation for coming home to myself.  Find me the shore, you’ll find me reflective and making big decisions for myself.

I came home six months later, broke, in debt to my mother for quite a few thousand dollars, but hopeful for a future I had yet to learn how to lean into.  Now 17 years later and quite possible 100 years wiser; I’m packing up my bags, my kids, my dog and moving again.  But this time I’m not running away from anything, I’m running towards it.

Big moves take big Kahunas.  It takes a leader in life to lead their own damn life. And after too many years of allowing fear, judgement and opinions to sneak in and sway my decisions, I’m leaning into this decision with only love.  Perhaps made easier because I AM in love, but love ultimately leads one to lead, does it not?

This decision began with an impromptu trip to Kelowna earlier this year. I was unhappy, trauma triggered from a serious head injury and needing an escape into anything but the stress of my everyday life at home.  I was overwhelmed and couldn’t think straight. I flew up to Kelowna and stayed at a friend’s house that lived on a cliff overlooking the Okanagan Lake of BC.  Just the view of the water instantly put me at ease.  I remember standing there that first night, with my two girlfriends, overlooking the city lights across the Lake and thinking “I don’t want to live life like this anymore”. 

Something needed to give and it couldn’t be me.  What I didn’t know then, was a new beginning to the rest of my life. The water called me home in that moment and reminded me of myself in the only way it knows how to do.  I wasn’t okay, and enough was enough.

What transpired over the next month was dreams of the water in Costa Rica, nightmares of my trauma, anxiety, and a realization of my own self-loss.  I was an emotionally turbulent ball of tears because I was realizing how far away from myself I had become in my life, without seeing it.  Grief through transition is a sneaky heffer and it got me good.

I wanted to run.

I didn’t though. It might have taken me a hot minute, but I was able to remind myself of that moment overlooking the Lake and I began to categorically shut things down in my life that didn’t cultivate joy for me. Relationships, business obligations, my children’s schedule, my eating habits, my wine intake, you name it, I shifted everything I could and started saying no to it all. Regardless of who it hurt, I could not allow myself to slip any further into this loss of self.

What happened next was nothing short of a miraculous affirmation that I was back in alignment with my own self.

Over the next few weeks, my anxiety started to fade, my sleeping improved, my business picked up, my friends rallied behind me and then Love walked in. Gentle and unassuming, supportive and compassionate, love quietly landed at my feet. Everything began to fall into place like a missing puzzle piece found after years of looking at a hole in the picture. Unable to place what was supposed to fit.

Love of myself lead me back, while the love of another stood holding the door open with the most beautiful, welcoming smile I have ever seen. Proof that puzzles pieces can’t be forced.  You have to find a space where you can spread out and get quiet, pick up a piece and feel the edges for connection. The result is not only beautiful artwork, but a knowing that patience and love of the puzzle would bring you to the end.

Now, in just a few short weeks I will gratefully wake up every morning to that smile, while we overlook the beautiful Okanagan Lake, saying goodnight to the twinkling stars above, thanking the Universe for hearing my prayer all those years ago.  

At long last, I’m running home.