Sobbing this morning in the bathroom of the home I’m losing, crying out to God, begging Him to show me how I must have become a wicked person for all these things to be happening…

The first man I allowed myself to love in eleven years, the first man I allowed my heart to trust after the train wreck of abuse that was my relationship with my son’s father… the only man I ever allowed myself to open my heart to in the THIRTY YEARS since high school… the one I KNEW SAW MY HEART… who breathed in my vulnerability and assured me that when everything was right we would be together, that very man chose to throw my heart in the garbage and walk into an engagement with a woman I THOUGHT was my FRIEND…

The home I thought would be my last rental before buying a finally-ours-actual-forever-home, was being suddenly retracted by the landlady who wanted her daughter and grandson to live there…

My life is in massive upheaval, my hands cannot do hours upon end of massage therapy any longer and I’m not qualified for any other regular form of employment that wouldn’t require 50% of my paycheck to go to childcare…

I can’t begin to understand why this is happening… why my happy-ever-after always goes to someone else… why my lovingly-curated home is being ripped out from beneath us, why our treasures must now be given to relatives or sold to strangers…

My car is barely serviceable for short trips around town, much less ready for the cross country journey that will take us to the home of a friend who can help me record the songs that I hope against hope will create the future of our dreams…

And the keyboard that has served me for 25 years as I’ve performed my music, took a tumble recently and is no more…

transitionOn August 11th, we will be homeless… my sweet little boy and I will face a life of sleeping in the car, a tent, friends’ couches… relying on the kindness of others to be able to navigate the world…

I am terrified.

I cannot begin to tell you how stressful it is for me to be constantly around other people. Being a mother and having no alone time as a result has caused my introverted spirit to cocoon itself in an extra 40 pounds and the hormones of middle age are doing nothing to help.

My hope is that this journey, and my hopefully-as-honest-as-I-can-be-about-my-true-feelings writing will offer a glimmer of hope to anyone else who may be facing a devastating life-transition.

The one thing I remember about transition – especially as it pertains to giving birth – is that it is the time when everything feels IMPOSSIBLE… when you can’t take ONE MORE HIT… when you CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE… THAT is when the baby is about to be born…

The gift of my very long and difficult labor with my son was that I learned I can live through anything and I can do the impossible…

There is a baby in here somewhere… if we just hold on together, and push through the impossibilities… we will get to hold the treasure that has been, through this season of pain, waiting to be born… waiting to meet US… waiting to bless our lives with its BEING…

I’ll hold your hand if you’ll hold mine…

Blessings,

M