Leaving the boxed room

It seems like this blog should be named "Never home instead".

I am going on a journey again. Only this time I am taking my home with me.

Shortly after I came back to FL, I purchased a home in a small suburban town about an hour away from Orlando. The house is solid, of cinder block construction, decorated with cedar and stone siding. Wood and stone reminded me of the forest and the place where I longed to be. It was love at first sight. There is a small patch of tall bamboo that sway with the wind in the side yard and well established palm trees in the front. It has a small backyard that resonates with life after a storm. At night, when I look up to the sky, I can see bright stars shining against a pure dark background, with black silhouetted branches of tall trees framing the view. Almost nightly, I hear an owl's hoot and I am treated daily to countless greetings from birds and insects that share this space with me. Although it sits in a small lot, it has enough earth around it to someday be able to provide me with plenty of food and nourishment.

This school year my daughter has decided to head to busy Los Angeles and experience her first year of high school while living with her dad. Although she has tried school a few times, she has homeschooled the majority of her academic years thus far. My teen daughter has challenged herself to step up to what intrigues her, scares her and excites her. She has taken a plunge so deep and so splashy that it has left me soaked in lonely tears and breathless pride. And while she excelled and tackled her adventure, I felt withered and depressed without her.

I became reclusive and closed off. I started relying heavily on social media and the internet as my only contact with society. Other than work, I stayed within the confines of my plain bedroom, full with large piles of packed boxes surrounding the two stacked mattresses I call bed. One pile of boxes is labeled "ebay", the others "photos" and "art work". My curtain is a half a sheet of brown paper dangling from the lower half of my window as it tries to hold on to a strip of packing tape.

I have spent a year in this bedroom; dwelling in the sadness of my past, dreaming of the future and wasting my present. Trying to force myself out of my post-divorce, man-less life, my romantic self  spent hours browsing dating sites, longing to make contact with someone who understands, appreciates, respects and treasures me. Someone who challenges my intellect, who loves me enough to cradle me gently and patiently when I am afraid and expects and desires nothing but the best from me: friendship, loyalty and love. Obviously, there is only so much one can find in a bedroom full of boxes, where all conversations are held in your head. So I found nothing but disappointments.

Kayak rentals at Lake Griffin State Park, FL

One day, out of exasperation, I decided to head to a local park and rent a kayak. It was the most adventurous thing I had done since my failed attempt to head to Arkansas and live off grid. As I paddled, I marveled at the magical and liquid silver quality of the water. Dragonflies flirted in mid air and bees buzzed around me. The sun warmed my skin, and all my senses awoke to amazing sounds, smells and sights. I felt alive and smiled.

Shortly after that, I purchased two used beginner kayaks from Craigslist. As my naysayer voice reminded me of hornets, alligators and snakes, I started finding organized outings thru "Meet up" groups. Knowing that these outings were there for me, helped me get out of my boxed room.

I was late to my first meeting and having given up on it halfway there, I turned back home. As I drove past a local lake on the highway, I spotted a lonely fishing kayak waiting to be lounged. The "survivalist" in me still wanted to learn to fish, so I approached the kayak's owner and asked if I could join him for the outing. With a surprised smile the man said yes, welcomed my company on his solo birthday celebration and extended his kind friendship to me. I felt alive and smiled.

I continued to explore Meet up groups and eventually came upon what sounded like a beautiful sunset paddle in Orlando. Fighting and pushing myself out of my boxed bedroom again, I arrived late and found that the group had gone without me. I was left to find them in a place completely unknown to me, directed by college kids on jet skis. I eventually found my way to the group, whose members welcomed me with friendly and cheerful dispositions. I shook people's hands and once again, I felt alive and smiled. This was the point when I realized that I didn't want to stop smiling.

Climb up Blood mountain, Appalachian trail, GA

A few weeks later, my dearest friend joined me from California and I celebrated my 48th birthday hiking 37 miles on the Appalachian trail. It was the first time I set foot on the AT, and a historical date for me. I was completely out of shape and carrying some 35-40 lbs of mostly car camping gear packed in a borrowed backpack. Besides from the times I have been in the ER due to a herniated lumbar disk, I can tell you that I have never experienced so much physical pain, frustration and discomfort as I did that weekend. But I survived it, as I survived the next few 20 and 30+ mile outings. Eventually I was introduced to the Florida trail and the beauty that is in my own back yard.

Slowly, I have pushed myself out of my boxed bedroom. It hasn't been easy. Doubt, fear and loneliness still plague my mind from time to time. Without my daughter near me and a family of my own to love, hug and help me buffer what comes my way, life sometimes seems to be only a strange, new landscape in which I must thrudge without a path or destination.

But thrudge I have, and thrudge I will. In a few days I will be heading west on a roadtrip to see my daughter. I will be armed with state and national parks passes, my DIY backpack, camping gear, a few gessoed panels, paints and brushes. I will follow my daughter's example and take a deep plunge.

View from Blood Mountain's summit

I will be facing my fears and weaknesses and leaving the safety of my boxed room entirely. I am terrified but I am smiling. There is nothing more scary to me than what I take and what I can find out there: Me. I am the only person who can stop, belittle, diminish, blame and hate me most than anyone else. I found this out by living in my boxed room for the last year. But I am also the only person who can understand, appreciate, respect, nurture and treasure me. I am the only one who can challenge my own intellect and expect nothing but the best from me and for me. I found this out by feeling alive with nature around me. So I have to leave my boxed room.

St. John's river, Deland.

Suwannee River, FT

Besides me as company, I am taking the happiness that fresh air gives me and the daringness I feel when I can no longer walk another step due to exhaustion. I am taking the sense of achievement I feel when I am standing on the summit of a mountain looking in disbelief, marveling at the horizon and the narrow, difficult path that brought me there. I am taking the smiles and energy of people who have shown me a glimpse of their knowledge, fears, goals, discipline, beauty, kindness and passion in any capacity while I lived in my boxed room. I am taking the color and earthy smell of soft moss in the forest, the ripples that wind makes on a lake's shimmering surface and the white sand along the banks of the Suwannee river's mirror-like black water.  I am taking my dog to hug, gratitude and wonder of my small accomplishments.

Sunset paddle, Orlando

I am hoping to face my monsters and my angels. Maybe I will or maybe I won't, I don't know. All I know is that I am leaving my boxed room and coming back to it to find it empty. When I come back, my room and my rustic looking, little, cedar plank sided home will be ready to be painted on the inside in warm colors, be celebrated and made into the sanctuary and kingdom where I deserve to live.

Feeling alive, and smiling again.

Is there a boxed room you need to leave? If so, remember this: Nature heals. Be brave, be kind to yourself and leave your boxed room.

For pictures of my road trip from FL to CA, visit my FaceBook public album here.