Out on your corner in the pouring rain.

Welcome to the third edition of The Basement Chronicles.

I haven’t worked on the basement in a few days, but I want to catch up on all my progress down there.

Also, as a sidenote. All of this work was accomplished while listening to Rise Together. What an inspiring and entertaining podcast.

Progress #4. (2.16)

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I cleaned off the play table and the dresser. I organized the 3×3 of toys, but currently it’s mostly papers/school supplies. I added a bookcase and unpacked a box of kid books.

Progress #5. (2.18)

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I don’t have a before shot of this. It had previously been boxes and boxes of dvds and random stuff and I don’t even remember what. But I cleared out the whole space and it was empty and amazing. I don’t have a shot of that either. Then I moved the clothes totes here from the front room and went through a couple boxes from the front. It seemed like a good place to temporarily store the luggage too.

Progress #6. (2.19)

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Holy smokes!

And an updated view of the front room.

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Chris was inspired by my work downstairs and he wanted to declutter and beautify his work area downstairs too! I don’t have a picture of that, but some of this trash is his and I’m so fucking proud of him.

This week I am committed to making space to work through some of my 12 week Kendra program stuff. Also, my sponsor gave me new homework and I’m going to devote time to that too.  I’ll write about both of these soon.

Off to sleep now!

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Illuminate the blackest nights.

It’s fascinating what a difference a day makes.

Thursday was a day. Thursday was such a day. It hurt. It was also a day of growth that propelled me into today. Maximum amount of growth from a maximum type of experience.

This morning someone said something that reminded what Chris and my communication looked like at the start of our relationship. There was an obscene amount of us being present for one conversation, but experiencing two wholly different conversations. Our very different sets of experiences and baggage provided very skewed filtered translations of our words.

I’d repeat back to him what he said, but really what I was repeating back was what I heard (how I translated it), and he wouldn’t understand what the hell I was talking about. Or worse yet, I’d tell him and he’d get mad I took it that way, which only served to make me feel more terrible. Or sometimes I would have said something once and maybe even off cuff, and then a year later he’d be like “well, I’ve never done this thing because this one time you said you didn’t like it”…. and I’d have no recollection of saying that and would have had no issue with this random thing he wanted to do, but had never done.

We spent a lot of time navigating that. Until we maybe didn’t have to navigate it so much? And we were just on the same page most of the time.

And then life, as it is wont to do, got bigger and deeper and more layered. And perhaps we took the communication for granted and the translators surfaced again unbeknownst to either of us.

There are things that I felt on Thursday–things I wrote–that are totally valid. And then there are other things that were filtered through a broken translator. Things that were filtered through pain I have compartmentalized and avoided. It doesn’t make them any less valid. It doesn’t make them any less real. It just makes them…not the truth.

Part of the defective translator is my long past experiences and apparently not having properly explored them. There have been times I felt slighted or dismissed or overlooked and I react from those moments. Not because I’m mad. But because it hurts. I support him because it’s in my nature to do so. I want to feel it in return. He is supportive in other ways, but it’s not the same to me.

Another aspect is a fresh wound. The fresh wound has been something I haven’t wanted to peel the bandaid off of to look at yet. I haven’t been ready. I don’t know what I’ll find exactly and also I don’t know whose help I’ll need to employ. Will a nurse do? Or do I need a surgeon? Can the wound be cleaned and heal with time or is the whole limb a lost cause? Will the body survive the loss of limb? So, I keep the bandaid on.

And mostly it is fine.

Every now and again “mostly” leaves and “not fine” shows up.

For now, I know that no matter the solution I choose for healing it, I need to make the choice soon.

I tangented tho. The point I was wanting to make is that Thursday I translated communication through my pain (and maybe Chris translated through his something as well) and I was inaccurate. He didn’t think the enneagram was stupid and he didn’t think me stupid for having interest in it. He took a quiz today and listened to some of the Rise Together podcast episode about it and seemed genuinely interested in it, just the way that I hoped. And I hoped it because he is such a bright light and for too long he has been trying to dim himself.

And I guess now begins some me/us work because all the things I’m feeling and protecting just under the surface only serve to dim bright light as well.

I’m nothing if not the girl who finally catches up to remember I practice what I preach.

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Tap on my window; knock on my door.

This hilarious thing happened. Where I was listening to the Rise Together podcast and Rachel and Dave were fucking geeking out about their enneagrams and I wanted in on it, despite having previously been vehemently (read: quietly) against taking the quiz. So I stopped the podcast and took a quiz. And apparently I had gone and decided some expectations beforehand because of all of my growth and accomplishments. I thought my results would give me further fuel to kick ass and take names amidst my personal growth journey.

And then I got a 2.

And I was like “what the shit is this?!”

Here I’ve been working on personal growth and growth mindset and so much me me me for a really long time and now I have this thing in front of me saying I do everything for everyone else and at my expense and to top it all off, I disrespect others’ boundaries.

I was not pleased.

To add insult to injury, I had been chatting with Chris about it beforehand and I felt like he had completely dismissed my everything about it. Which then triggered me to remember the random things he has dismissed in the past that mean something to me.

(Side story. The first time was back in 2014 when I went to a neuromusculoskeletal specialist (MD) who gave me an adjustment I was ill prepared for and I experienced my first…I’m not even sure what to call it. I had to navigate trauma that was released from my body. I sobbed. Like, sobbed. The doctor called me a delicate flower and he said it in such a sweet and loving way that he made me feel loved and worthy and strong in a way I had never felt before.

After I navigated this experience I felt so at peace and free and practically giddy and I relayed the whole thing to Chris on the drive home and he was so….mad. And he was so….oversteppingly protective. And then suddenly I felt invalidated and stupid.

This memory hurts. I know he never wants me to feel hurt. I know he wouldn’t want to be the thing doing the hurting. I also know that the reality is, we hurt people without realizing, especially when we ourselves are hurting.

I can view that part objectively. It doesn’t ease the hurt. Both things exist simultaneously.

I don’t purposefully hold onto this. I have never mentioned it to him, tho we did talk about it shortly after it happened. I don’t hold it over his head. It’s not usually any source of resentment or ill feelings. It’s not a chalkboard checklist of ways Chris has done wrong. It’s mostly just a feeling that resurfaces when I feel triggered by invalidation, if I feel unseen, or if there is something I’m interested in that is…not tangible.

The interesting thing to note here is that Chris has interest in things that he himself deems as hokey. It must hurt a lot to follow something, to take stock in it, to have it have meaning to him….and to also invalidate it as crap. I wish he could see that believing in something “other” or spiritually unexplainable doesn’t make him less than.

So it shouldn’t surprise me when he dismisses love languages and enneagram and whatever else could help give him insight into himself or me or our children or the relationships that intermingle all those things.

Also, I want to say, that I have never been anything less than wholly supportive and compassionate about anything he has ever had interest in, be it Jesus/god, when he was super religious, or cigars or pipe tobacco or vaping, for that stint, or when he was blending tobacco or making snuff (ground tobacco) or blending juices and making his own mods. I was present and stood next to him for all of it. Even when he drank. Twice. I show up every time. He could never say I don’t show up. I am there and I support every endeavor and every mistake and every rabbit hole. I listen through every news blip and political rant and all the Joe Rogan and UCF fights and Sargon of Akkad.

And some days I have real, tangible pain that I don’t feel the same in return. Not all the time. Not every day. But enough.

And I know I should say something. And I would. If I had any idea how to. Without it sounding needy or ungrateful or petty.)

So, back to today. I was trying to talk out my feelings about maybe being a 2 (77%). Or perhaps even being a 5 (74%) and he went the route of talking about coding those kinds of quizzes and how stuff like that is easy, and I…I closed off and shut down.

And there was no good way to say “but I want to talk about me”. And…it was such a 2 thing to do and to think.

And even tho it happened 10 hours ago, I’m laugh-crying about the irony and sadness and amusement of it all. I’m certain that any person who was well versed in 2s would say “oh, sweetheart” and envelop me in their arms and I could cry about how much being alive hurts and how much pressure there is and how I never feel seen and usually I’m okay with that, but today it just hurts, and they would get it.

But I don’t know any enneagram people because I don’t feel like I have any connections with people and it is a chasm that deeply aches.

So I’ll cry my good cry and I’ll “through; not around” and I’ll keep chugging along anyway. ‘Cause while I may be a 2, I’m also a fierce fucking fighter and I refuse to ever feel stuck.

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A perfect day for doing the unstuck.

I’m a little of the mind, in this exact moment, that personal growth is stupid. I’m a little stompy about it. I’m a little salty.

I’m leaning into the (perceived) (temporary) inconvenience of having growth.

I wanted a morning.

And I didn’t get said morning. Because I can’t control how other human beings spend their time or how they process information. And I wouldn’t want control of that. I’m good to not have control of that. And also, when there is such a strangely skewed processing of things, I just….

I have to stop to breathe.

And maybe cry some.

It’s not about what did or didn’t happen. It’s not about the other triggering things this morning–I’ll write about that soon. It’s not even necessarily about the apparent crapshoot of miscommunication. Right now it’s only about how I find the way to constructively put one foot in front of the other and stay true to my path.

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So I’m at the library. Typing. And watching my little watch the fish.

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We must let go to know what’s right.

The Basement Chronicles.

So, we left off at progress on February 6th. Some time ticked on by after this. A woman name Angel posted in a group that she needed accountability for a three day decluttering party and I love that shit, so I was giddy to volunteer. Luckily she was down for texting and I could bypass fb messenger. Decluttering while I knew she was decluttering was really motivated and I got a lot accomplished.

Progress #2. (2.12)

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The following day Angel and I texted back and forth and I was telling her I want an empty basement. Not entirely empty. I want the storage shelves to contain storage. And then I want the rest empty, apart from a play area/book nook. She asked me about intent and why I wanted my basement empty. I gave her the spiel about growing up in chaos and hoarder family members and she wisely pointed out that the “nots” of wanting something wasn’t the way to bring about intent. So I came up with:

I want to walk downstairs and have an open space that feels peaceful and relaxing. I want a space that allows me to breathe life into it. Instead of a space that breathes chaos into me.

And then I did progress #3. (2.13)

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My current process is that I’m decluttering the basement in waves. This will not be my only pass through. I’m working my way around to get to everything on the surface. Separate trash from donation from “go through”. Then complete the trash runs and donation drop offs. Then I will start tackling the deeper things.

More progress to come soon!

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Repeat steps one through three.

So. Hello. Welcome to the first edition of The Basement Chronicles.

I’m your host. The Incomparable Asskicker.

Ha. I get so cocky after just a week of action taking. (Okay…a couple weeks…)

Really, above anything else, I’m just really fucking proud of myself. I’m nowhere near done. I haven’t made any trash runs or donations drop offs. But I’m in the game and I’m just doing it and it feels really good.

I have pictures somewhere of my basement from a few years ago. Times it was at its worst or had just recently been organized but was still overflowing with stuff. I’ve never tackled it like this before. I’ve never led with such intent.

This is what it looked like February 6th when I began.

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That pathway was only there so we had room to get a new washer to the other side of the basement the week prior. Previously it had been a much smaller, much more treacherous pathway that was only used when we had to do laundry.

Progress #1. (2.6)

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I cleared off R’s art table because she hasn’t used it in over a year. I made it my “go through these” table. I wanted to have the hard work front and center, but know I didn’t have to put my energy there until I was ready. (I’m still not ready and that’s still perfectly okay.)

More to come of my progress soon! This is so exciting!

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Like shooting stars.

I was driving and L was talking about going to visit Grandma. This is how our conversations usually go.

L: How we get there?
me: Well, it’s pretty far away. We could drive there.
L: Okay!
me: But that would take a long time. We could fly.
L: Ma! We don’t have wings!!
me: You make a good point, sir. We’d have to take an airplane.
L: Where we find one of those?
me: The airport.
L: Oh!

It all makes sense now.

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Swan dive.

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I keep fiddling with tectonicdraft related things, but have yet to launch my actual site. I will get there. There is no question. But also, ohmygosh, just freakin’ do it already, would ya?!

I’m currently doing some behind the scenes related things in my life. I’m working on decluttering my basement and my head. I signed up for Kendra Hennessy’s 12 week Your Best Mom Life course. I’m setting goals and connecting. I’m doing the work I’ve always been afraid of, but I’m not afraid.

I feel like I’m on the precipice toward myself.

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To the east side.

I was brave today and done did get myself a sponsor.

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Yesterday a child came out to wonder.

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It feels like this was specifically written for me. It is words I haven’t been able to find for myself. It’s not answers. But it’s something.

It’s a spark.

I don’t yet have a real grasp on…who I am. I know the what’s. I know I’m silver lining girl and mom and wife. I know I lead with gratitude and kindness and perseverance. I know I practice and practice and practice.

I know I don’t have a clear grasp of my special qualities and skills. I know Chris rolls his eyes when I say “yeah, but everyone is always working toward active growth and progress!” ….which is apparently not quite true. And then he rolls his eyes again when I say, “yeah, but I had no choice to keep going!!” Which…again, apparently, not true.

But I don’t know these things. I thought everyone just kept reaching for more self-awareness and growth. I didn’t know “just keep swimming” was a suggestion.

So here I have these, apparently, special attributes. And a huge lack of confidence to go with them. Apparently I’m super self aware, but only to my weaknesses.

So I’m on a ladder.

And I see soooooooo many people above me. And so many people below me. The people who are also working toward having some of their shit together and who are making so much money. And the people who have no shit together and are raking it in. The people decluttering, but not to the best of my ability (super vulnerable moment here where I admit my judginess. Which I totally realize stems solely from my own insecurity…). Or worse yet, they’re not decluttering to the best of their ability! And they don’t even care! (vulnerable moment #2 because fuckin’ a, other people are none of my business and I know this and I’m making them my business anyway!) The people who are drowning in depression or anxiety or addiction. The people drowning in their spouse’s addictions. The people who sound like they’re sucking up to people I admire and having their response be eaten up. Me, being publicly vulnerable, and reaching out to these same people I admire, and having their responses feel lacking when I confide. Then I second guess myself and wonder if I sounded….sucking up-esque.

Ohmygosh, I’ve just gone back and reread what I wrote and it all sounds exhausting! There are so many people on the ladder and I haven’t learned how to turn my brain off about them! Or about myself!

Mostly, not turning my brain off has only served to make me feel inferior. And then I constantly have this sense of “I can’t do anything right” when it comes to interacting with others. And all I want is to connect with people and all I’ve managed so far is to make that impossible.

I lead with love on the surface, but below the surface I am waiting in fear for the next person to pounce me and put me in my place or tell me I’m wrong or that I’m no good.

I feel like I’m getting closer. I feel like the puzzle pieces are moving around and a clearer picture is trying to come into focus. I can feel the uncomfortable forces of change stirring around me–stirring within me. I know it’s time to dig deep and lean into it. I know I’m scared. I know it’s worth it. I know, one day, I will feel worth it.

I need to step off the ladder.

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