I’ve been riding the waves lately. But not in the way I used to.
For much of my life, I’ve been the person on the heaving boat, hurled over the edge, furiously treading water as I fight my way back to safety. If I were to describe the situation in surfing terms, I’d be the one getting smashed into the sand, sputtering water as I try to get back on my feet, emptying a pound of sand from my bathing suit bottoms.
These days, it’s different.
Yes, the waves and tides still rise and fall with the moon and the mood of my inner and outer world. Life still rushes up against me and threatens to overwhelm. But my feet are firmly planted on the ground, in the sand, rooted. This year has given me plenty of opportunities to notice how solid I feel. Sometimes we only become aware of our solidity when everything and everyone around us is tossing and turning.
My cat Missy whom I had for 15 years, died on January 1st of this year. I thought she was on her way out in 2023, but a physical move perked her right up. She spent her last six months outside, springing around the yard and sunning herself top of the shed in the backyard. I was so happy for this unexpected burst of life. The worst part of losing her is that I wasn’t with her. I was in Costa Rica. When I got the call that something was terribly wrong, I felt helpless and a overwhelming surge of sadness and guilt. The next day she was gone. She died alone and I was devastated by that fact. It took some time and the perspective that she knew what she was doing, to sooth my heart. The fact that I allowed myself to rely on some time and a perspective shift is a nod to my recovery.
I’ve spent the past few years, traveling to spend time with my ailing dad. My mom passed in 2022 and my dad’s final journey was quiet, lovely and heart-crushing. I would spend the days in his room, sitting on a hard stool beside his wheelchair, holding his hand and putting moisturizer on his parched, paper-thin skin. My dog Gracie accompanied me, and she beg to sit on his lap so she could lick all the moisturizer off. My Dad was a dog-lover, and I think Gracie brought a spark of joy to the slow-burning embers of his life. We were actually surprised at how long he hung in after my mother's death, considering they were together for 66 years. Suddenly, two days after my parents wedding anniversary, he decided to go. Once again, I wasn’t there. The time between the change in him and his passing was about 48 hours. Thanks to Missy, I spent no time feeling guilty about it. When I arrived to his empty room, everything I had to take care of felt intentional and grounded in love. The grief was like a gentle wave lapping at the sand, floating over the rocks, shifting them slightly but never completely dislodging them. The grief still feels like that, a tender reminder of love that I have freely given and in a way, have finally allowed myself to receive.
The year started out with a lot of confusion about my son and his place in the world as an “adult”. He turned 19 in June which seemed like a long jump from 18. It was a year later, and we were still no farther ahead in having any kind of understanding of what his future might look like. The worry, stress and uncertainty is difficult and exhausting. And yet, I persisted. I am heading into the end of this year with new resources, support and clarity.
My son is in a day program now, a place where I can finally relax for six hours a day, three days a week, knowing that he is safe and supported, and that I won’t get a call to come and pick him up. I have all the legal things done for his care – Power of Attorney and a Trust in my will. I have new assessments happening in the Fall which will hopefully reaffirm what we already know and provide more detail on what his needs are to live his life with some autonomy and independence. I feel hopeful for a change. I’m holding on, keeping my head well above water and I see land in the distance.
The work I have done on my own recovery this year coupled with the work I have done in recovery spaces with recovering women, has been a powerful antidote to life. Three years ago, I was thrashing around in unexpected resentment. Two years ago, I was at the cusp of some big changes that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. Deep down, I knew that I had to change. But I was having a difficult time of extracting myself from what wasn’t working. It took a while for me to act upon what was true, to trust that even if I was making a mistake, I would be all right. And here I am, all right.
November is here and it’s kind a special month for me. I head to Costa Rica in a few weeks for my Expand Beyond Recovery La Anita Rainforest retreat. It’s a dream about to come true. November marks the beginning of important days: the birthdays of my birthmother, my dad and my mom, consecutively. My “familiar” (old lady Gracie) turns 11. The astrological signs of Scorpio and Sagittarius have always meant something to me. Along with my parents, I have many Sagittarius friends. As a Taurus, the sign of Scorpio has always kind of scared me silly, kind of like my fear of snakes. As I get older and farther into my recovery though, I’m compelled to befriend the things that scare me…at the very least, peacefully coexist with them.
And here’s another wave. This past weekend I was digging through an old box of old, miscellaneous keepsakes including some of the original paperwork from my adoption. I came across a document listing my birthplace, date and time that I’ve never noticed before. (My time of birth wasn’t listed on my original birth certificate.)
I glanced at it…9:37…PM!
The last 10 years as I have dug into my own astrology, I have done so based on my birthtime being 9:37AM!
So what does this mean? Well, I'm still a Taurus. But instead of Virgo rising, I am Sagittarius rising. And my moon is in Virgo! Right away, I called one of my dear clients (and now, my astrologer), and booked a birth chart reading because this discovery seems important. Not only because I believe in astrology but because I've been feeling this lately: grounded in what I know to be true for myself, with a steady awareness that I don’t need to look anywhere outside for what I already possess. I’ve started to truly embrace my humanity, the whole of it and my place in the world. And it's deeply connected to nature, cycles and the ebb and flow of life.
A recent cold-water dip in Maine suddenly comes to mind.
On a very fresh, fall morning, with the sun just beginning its ascent above the ocean, I run into the icy waves with a group of shrieking women, my body bobbing up and down, smiling and laughing through the cold salty spray. For a good few minutes after everyone has left the water, I stay in. The waves and I calmly sync, a waltz with the water, the cold air and the pink and golden sun that rises before me. This is what 10 years of active recovery has given me. I am the wave.
When I plant my feet in the sand and turn around to move back to shore, “pins and needles” run up and down the entire length of my body. My eyes are wide open and my breath fills my entire body. Somebody throws me a towel as I grin and chatter with aliveness.
I'm here for all of this aliveness, even the hard stuff. Living is worth it, experience is worth it.
Speaking of experiences, I held off publishing this till after the US election. And here we are today, in a different world, about to ride a different wave. One of the first things I read this morning on my Facebook was a post from my friend and mentor, SHE RECOVERS Co-founder, Dawn Nickel. She wrote, "we can get through anything, one day at a time." And that is true. In recovery, we learn to overcome challenges, to be present for, and to take care of ourselves; to be open to new ideas, to speak our truth and to accept life on life's terms. I'm so grateful to understand that we don't have to do it alone. We can hold on to each other.
I’ve got a few final things to share today...
I am bringing back my online "Word of the Year" program beginning in January!
Empowered 2025 is meant to empower recovering women to move away from striving and struggling with intentions, goals and/or resolutions that feel ho-hum and uninspired. Instead of just going through the motions of New Year intentions alone, together we'll boldly create and embody the energy of what we truly desire in recovery and life. This is a 12-week program with live Zoom sessions every Saturday at 12PM Pacific, 3PM Eastern, beginning on January 11th.
I’ll be formally launching it on November 15th (the full moon which just happens to be the full moon in Taurus) but you can check it out HERE. If you are like me and love new beginnings, fresh starts and plenty of inspiration, jump in! I can't wait to envision another year with a group of kindred souls.
I’ve also launched the 2025 Grace Happens Autumn Renewal Retreats. Coaches Kathy Robbins, MaryBeth Litchfield-Murphy and I will host two retreats this year in the gorgeous sea-side community of York Harbor, Maine. This will be our 4th year doing this retreat together and I can’t wait to see what magic we’ll create with the women who join us. Here's what one attendee had to say about this year's retreat:
This was such an amazing retreat. It was well organized. The food was amazing with fantastic choices for everyone. There was the perfect combination of me time, group activities, self care and time to reflect and renew. It was definitely a healing time and allowed for continuous growth. Thank you so much Payton. Will definitely attend again!!
As we ride these final waves of 2024, I am wishing you peace, ease, strength. And no matter what waves hits, may we always find out feet.
Until next time, lovelies.
Payton
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