Horsey Therapist

Monday, May 07, 2007

Letting go, going forward

This is about me, but of course will be reflected in my horsemanship.

We have a For Sale sign in the yard in front of our house now.

I cried when I arrived home and saw it. It was not a surprise -- I knew we were putting this house on the market. But it was an emotional shock to move from "going to" to "doing". It's a doing thing now, not a plan.

RNB was here and at first didn't understand my emotions. He has moved a lot and doesn't consciously form attachments as I do. He does in his own way though, and I recall his emotions when we first came to this decision, many months ago. I was able to suggest a scenario that he could relate to and he understood my feelings.

I feel vulnerable. We are saying -- here, someone come take this house from us. But we don't have our next plan in place, ready to receive us.

I was thinking last night about my incredible procrastination with finishing up my mother's probate process. I realized that some tangled thinking in my head, that came to consciousness last night, went something like this: as long as I still have some work to do, some stuff to disburse, then I still feel like I have some remnants of my mother out there ready to take care of me should I need her. If I give everything away that was hers, then there is nothing left in case I need something from her to get me through a rough spot. I shared this with RNB, and he commented, "so you'll be on your own now?"

My mother was always there. Not always ready to offer me what I needed, but always ready to offer what she thought I needed, or what she wanted to offer, or what she could offer. Although I got mad at times that she couldn't give me what I needed (and I'm not certain it was her role to do that all the time), I truly counted on her eagerness to give me something. She was especially radiant in her generosity when someone was ill or injured, needing her nurse persona.

There are some emotional parallels between my feelings about this house and my feelings about my mother. It's about the vulnerability of not having something that I've been relying on to keep me safe and warm.

So it's a time for me to let go. And let go some more. It's funny -- I kinda know when something like this is brewing under the surface. I start wanting to eat some butterscotch/caramel type creamy foods, like ice cream or flan!

We have a dream we are building. And a lovely old house that has served us well, kept us warm and dry and busy, heard our tears and our laughter, housed our cats and our belongings. Thank you, dear house, for being our home. Thank you, fields and barn for supporting our horses, cows, sheep, goats, birds... Thank you, dear gardens, for your beautiful flowers and your edible vegetables and berries. Thank you, surroundings, for your bountiful wildlife underground, above ground, and in the air. This is a special place, and may your next humans appreciate and care for you as well as we have.


At 08 May, 2007 18:05, Blogger ZinniaZ said...

Lasell, it looks just beautiful. I would grieve for this place too. I wonder if pieces of this place will be a part of you and of the new place.


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