So… I just last year came out of a painful divorce from a 13+ year live-in relationship, and was financially shell-shocked/traumatized enough from that to not EVER want to be dependent on another person like that again… a situation that ultimately spurred me to finally embrace a lifestyle that I’ve been secretly pining for for quite a while… and so I became a conscious nomad, of sorts. Which basically means that, after living with family for months, I decided to get an RV and strike out on my own. Making the RV my actual home. Yep, you read that right. My home has wheels.

It might be an odd choice to some, akin to embracing homelessness (I prefer the term “houselessness,” actually), but I have a wanderer’s soul, and having the freedom to go where my heart pulls me, combined with having a place that’s just MINE no matter what, that is paid for and that nobody can take from me, after the hell and financial insecurity of divorce, is actually amazing.

I’m still pretty new to the nomad thing, so I’m sorta taking it easy on the traveling around, making little baby hops here and there, not very far, you know, that sort of thing.

The pic above is actually one that I took myself, and it reminds me a lot of how far I’ve come on the journey of my life thus far.

I came across this oh-so-appropriate mindfulness message on the sidewalk one day about a year before my ex asked for a divorce. I was at work, on my lunch break, taking a walk to clear my head. We’d been fighting on the phone (again), and I’d suggested couples therapy or counseling, and he didn’t want to hear it, and the conversation hadn’t ended well.

It actually ended with me in tears, wandering watery-eyed and confused around the streets of the neighborhood, if I’m being honest. I felt like I was shattering, like I was going to die if I lost him, like he was my whole world, like we’d been together so long it felt like I didn’t know who I even was without him. And nothing made sense.

How had this happened, how had I let it happen, how had I failed at marriage so badly, how come he didn’t love me enough to stay… all these questions and so many more were spiraling in my mind.

And then I looked down and saw these words that someone had etched in the cement of the paved sidewalk at my feet: “YOU ARE HERE.”

And I’m not even sure I can totally explain everything that went through my head right then, but it just somehow… stopped me from going deeper into my dark mental rabbit hole. Because…

You are here. This is a journey, a process, a stop along the way, and there’s more to come.

And you are HERE, breathing, alive, able to enjoy the sun and the breeze and the birds and squirrels and trees, and you’re not doing yourself any favors if you stay so mired in your own misery that you let yourself miss it, all of this awesomeness.

You are here. YOU. You. Nobody else. And you are strong, and unique, and some parts of you may be bittersweet and tough for some people to swallow, but that’s okay, because you have a flavor all your own that is just right for YOU, that is just the right amount of sweet and tangy and salty and all of the other things that you are. You are enough. In fact, you are an absolutely delicious treat.

You are here. And that is pretty amazing.

And as hard as life is sometimes — especially when things feel like they might be forever broken and the edges of my feelings press into me like cut glass and I just bleed emotion — I really do believe that the universe is guiding me.

And it’s moments like this that make me believe.

For context on this post, and links to related journal entries from this particular piece of my life's journey, see My Sobriety Journey, Journaled.