Sticking to Your Rock

Coping in low-tide times

Hi, Kelly Eden here from Medium.

I’m feeling very grateful that it’s warm here today. We’ve had a week in lock-down now in New Zealand—like many of you probably are—so it’s been nice to get outside for bike rides and walks in the sunshine. It was just what I needed.

I’ve noticed some people are coping pretty well with all this—doing huge projects around the house, getting fit, writing novels.

It’s great to see that, but I don’t think it’s necessarily what we all need to be doing.

I read an article this week where a writer described life as tidal. I loved that analogy. There are certainly many highs and lows in life. That’s why I don’t think we all need to be doing a huge project right now.

Some of us are more effected by the low-tide time we currently find ourselves in. If you’re one of those people, know that’s its okay to rest: to just stick to your rock.

Other times, we need to pack up and leave the rock behind.

I was reflecting on change this week and what we leave behind. Here’s how it ended up on paper…

How to Leave Things Behind and Open the Door for Something New

Leaving my closet behind was the worst. It was just a room – the smallest one in my house. But it was the place I went to be silent, to pray, reflect, write in my journal. To cry.

That tiny room was my safe space. It was my refuge and the hardest place to leave behind.

When your world changes, it means leaving things behind. Letting some things you love go.

Dreams interrupted

When I decided to leave my marriage, I realized it would also mean leaving the family home. There had to be a clear boundary of what was mine. I needed to create a wall — four walls — that said, “This is where I am welcome and you are not.” It was a necessary decision but not an easy one.

Leaving is never easy.

I grieved over the loss of my nice house — the dreams I’d had when we built it only two years earlier. I grieved over what I’d imagined it would be for our family.

I also feared what might be next.

Fearing the future

When I left, I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford as nice a place. I looked at flats online and those in my price range were dire. When I went to view them, they were even worse. Broken windows. Mold on the walls. Threadbare carpet. Gang neighborhoods.

Then I booked a viewing for a little cottage. As soon as my kids and I walked in, I knew it was for us.

It was 100 years old and backed onto a rough area with a known gang across the fence. Done up on the cheap, it had mismatched tiles and supermarket panels lining the kitchen walls (complete with “milk” “wine” and “fruit” labels). The carpet consisted of separate threadbare orange squares, swirled in a 70's pattern which clashed with the brightly painted walls. With no insulation in the front two rooms, only half the house was live-able in winter.

But the direct neighbors were safe and friendly. Sun flooded the open living room and kitchen for most of the day. And with red, yellow, and green decor we instantly named it Candy Cottage.

It had that feeling. You know the one — where you walk into a house and it feels good. Safe. Warm. Like a home.

I knew then, walking into that house, that we’d be okay. That I’d be able to make a new life for my kids and I. That this, our candy cottage house, could be a fresh start and a place where we could create a new life.

The quiet space in between

When I walked away from my marriage, I gave up my beautiful modern home and my tiny closet refuge. Sometimes, though, when you give up one thing, you open the door for something much better.

In my new home, I was free to create whatever space I chose. A space that gave us all a place to laugh, to cry, to feel safe, to pray, to reflect and be silent. A place to heal.

It was a quiet space and just the three of us most of the time. We went inward and small, with just a carefully selected circle of people who loved us. Our tiny bubble in our cottage home was exactly what we needed to prepare for a new future.

I let my closet refuge go and created instead a refuge that filled a whole house. But what I was really letting go of was fear. Fear of the unknown, of judgement, of failure. Fear of change and of what this new world would look like for us. Growth only comes, though, when we let go of the past.

When our world changes, we need to change too. What do you need to let go of?

I love it when you comment to let me know your thoughts on paper, too.

Keep safe

Kelly