Last day on the road.
Good morning from beautiful Sedona.
Today we leave (insert ugly cry here) and will complete our week long journey to Temecula, CA.
It's been one heck of a ride, and I couldn't have imagined capping off - not only this journey, but the last few years- in a more magnificent way.
It took the dogs and I 5.5 days to reach Oregon from DC last year, so I'd anticipated it taking somewhere around that for us to reach SoCal.
Today marks a full week since the dogs and I packed up what was left in our beloved little home and said our goodbyes.
After the house was emptied and all was said and done, Steve waited outside as I made my way through each room. Paid my respects. Expressed gratitude for the joy, comfort, and safe-keeping it provided all those years. Then hugged my little home goodbye (yes, I actually did).
I know it's "just a house." But, to me, it was much more. It was the first place I'd ever come to know as "home." The first place I'd ever stayed the longest in my life. It was where PackFit grew its legs. Where ideas took form. Where books, courses, and projects were born. Where healing and a new lease on life took place for the client and foster dogs who came through it. It was where I coached and mentored others along their personal health, canine, and entrepreneurial journeys. Where I raised my little canine family. Where goals and dreams became reality. It was the hub for beautiful things... it was our sanctuary.
These last few years have easily been the most difficult of my life... and I've been through some stuff. One traumatic thing happened after another, like a wave that wouldn't end. I was in and out of the ER. Alone. Afraid. Living in chronic survival mode.... while still trying to create, contribute, teach, serve, meet the needs of my dogs, and maintain some sort of healthful baseline myself. I seriously aged 25 years in the last 2.
And, as depleted and uncertain as I feel, I do believe there's a gift in all of this. A purpose and a reason why things had to shake down the way they did.
Trauma teaches us to do everything we can to stay safe. Emotionally and physically. It's the root of the great majority of our choices, actions, behaviors, responses, interpretations, etc.
Uncertainty and "the unknown" can feel like we're playing with certain death. "Change" can feel like we're one step away from walking right off the plank.
This particular chapter has tested me in ways I've never been tested before, and has also been quite revealing; so, for this, I am thankful.
These next months will be dedicated to acclimation, replenishment, processing, and rewriting "The Human End of the Leash."
As much as I loooooooove having some sense of certainty, a path, and a clear endpoint- I'm learning how to strike the balance between intentional creation.... and allowance.
Anyhoo.... here are more pictures from our trek. Seeing wild horses was an absolute highlight. Oh, how I would've loved to have been able to just sit and observe!
