Here I am, in my new home!
Don’t mind the boxes, or the echo you hear as your feet hit the hardwood.
It’s an adjustment, moving. Declaring ‘I’m Home!’ as I walk into unfamiliar territory, all the while feeling inspired, excited, and anxious.
Home. It’s where your heart is, they say. Where you can feel comfortable, with your toilet paper roll hung exactly the way you want.
I hope that’s what Life on a Tightrope becomes for me. I love my old home at The Sweet Life, but I felt stifled there. Like I was a visitor, or better yet, a tenant who owed back rent and who had made more holes in the walls than was allowed.
I know my life is sweet. I know that. There it is on paper: life is good! Appreciate it! Count your blessings!
But I’m darker than that. I don’t wake with the dawn and sing songs along with the birds. And so, writing there made me feel somewhat fraudulent. Like I couldn’t freely say, ‘dammit, life is hard sometimes!’ because is that what you say when you’ve declared to the world that life is vanilla bean sweet?
For the past three years, I’ve tried to write what I think people would want to read at a place called The Sweet Life. I’ve been writing authentically, yes, but what I really want to do, is write what crosses my mind as I let the steaming hot water run rivulets down my spine in the shower. What dwells in the deepest part of my soul when I go through one of my rough patches.
My life is the tightrope – sometimes narrow, sometimes wide, always hanging over a deep chasm promising to swallow me whole if I fall. Here, I will talk about finding my balance.
The wonderfully talented Jenn created this beautiful space, just for me, and she captured me perfectly. Thank you, Jenn, a hundred thousand times, thank you, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
I can’t even put into words how amazing it feels to be here… to be home.
At last.
