Most of you round here know I’m 53, & that my darling son ’19’ moved out a few months ago. Thank goodness he hasn’t gone far: 10 minutes up the road to his cousin’s place. When I was 19, I emigrated to Australia, where I still am, and didn’t see my Mum for years… no mobiles, no internet, barely even a phone… I just used to write her once a month.
If I felt like it.
But anyway, now I’m here, at a similar point, and as I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, am thinking about moving out of the suburbs onto an ‘intentional community’ in the forest.
I’ve been looking at real estate on and off for a year, knowing that the ’empty nest’ was coming; I grieved it when it actually happened, and of course found things to celebrate about it too- no need to cook dinner or keep the fridge fully stocked/minimal washing loads/peace and quiet/no car shuffling in the driveway/a tidy house and clean bathroom- the list goes on.
Still, I don’t want to just settle for an easy life in the same old house… damnit.
I wish I could. I wish I was content here, to potter round, enjoying the steady pace of a life without impulsive teenagers coming and going.
But I’m not. So I’ve pursued this option of living on a 2-acre share of rainforest up in the hills, and now it looks like it’s going to happen.
Which is freaking me out!
I’ve been lying awake at night- or worse, waking up at 3am to ruminate- trying to visualize my furniture in the new house, or my friends in the new house, or even my girlfriend in the new house.
All I get is a panicked blank mind and shallow breathing.
Plus a pit of unease in my belly.
So I took myself off to therapy, and sat there affirming my incredible privilege and blessed options, before bursting into tears like a confused child.
‘What’s underneath it all?’ she asked me. ‘You sound informed, supported, capable, ready- what’s going on? What are you scared of?’
And there I sat, twisting the sodden tissue, cursing my sensitive stomach while I dug down through the layers…
Part Two to follow