It's my happening... and it freaks me out

So, uh, I'm building a cabin, yeah?

Well, I'm not building it. I might contribute some amount of work to the project, but mostly it's going to be built by other people.

People who know what they are doing.

And that's a good thing.

So far, I am finding this a tremendously complex and daunting process. There are so many different people who need to do so many different things. Estimates have to be requested, acquired, considered and selected for each element of the project.

Decisions must be made.

I confirmed my third contractor today – and I am having a full-on anxiety meltdown.

I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? It can all get horribly fouled-up and I'll wind up with a bunch of debt for no actual building or a building that I can't live in and I will have to declare bankruptcy and lose this land, my shed, my un-winterized tiny home on wheels, the new building (or some unfinished part thereof) and have to start over from scratch. 

Well, that's not so bad, is it?

Afterall, it's only money and security and the comfort of feeling like I'm good at modern life. I think I can live without all of those things. I think I have the resilience to come through this if it's a massive disaster.

But, I hope it won't be.

Please, please, please, don't be a massive disaster.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Moving

They say moving is ranked among the top three most stressful events in life – right up there with changing jobs and losing a loved one through death or heartbreak.

I believe it.

I hate moving. I'm happy to help other people move, but I hate moving myself.

There has been a lot of moving in my life over the past 6 years. I've really pared down my belongings, but I still have way too much stuff in way too many locations and in far too much disorder.

I'm moving this week. It feels overwhelming and complicated. It involves a lot of anxiety and a lot of work.

Last night, I had a dream that I was – you guessed it – moving.

On one side of the narrow road that I had to travel with my things, there was a rock face and on the other side, a steep drop. And, if that wasn't scary enough, there was a dragon who was angry with me for having stolen a beautiful gemstone (yes, I did read The Hobbit compulsively as a child).

In my dream, two of my wonderful friends were helping me me move. (Lucky for me, in real life, several more of my dear friends have volunteered to help me move). We did the first load very quietly without waking the dragon. Then I told them that I just couldn't bear the risk of them doing the second load. I didn't want anything bad to happen to them. So I went back alone, as quietly as possible, to get the rest of my stuff.

I can't remember how the dream ended.

But, I'm pretty sure I got busted by the dragon as I sneaked back with the second load. And ended up as ashes and dust. (Which might be my subconscious mind telling me that I should just light all of my belongings on fire and start fresh).

So, here's to moving: anxiety and terror met (in my dream at least) with courage, love — and inevitable, sickening disaster.

Wish me luck.

Fear or Love? (A Tiny Home Dilemma)

I don't know if you've already seen this amazing convocation speech that Jim Carrey made at Maharishi University. I know it's been making the rounds on the interwebs.

Here's the clip that's inspiring today's blog post:

I saw this for the first time a few months ago and I'm slowly realizing that this clip sums up the dilemma with which I've been grappling over the past several months.

If you've been reading my blog over the past year or so, you'll know that I bought a Tiny Home in December 2013. I set it up on some friends' land last spring and lived in it through the summer. Then, as winter approached, I realized that winterizing it was going to be a pretty big task. I had gotten depressed and all of the things I needed to do felt like too much work. I could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone figure out and manifest all the things I needed to make my house work over the winter. The prospect of living in a draughty, small, thin-shelled structure for the winter felt out-of-control, risky and unsafe.

Running scared

So, I decided to abandon my tiny house for the winter. I found a house that I could rent – a place with central heating, electricity and running water. And I set myself the task of deciding what I wanted to do about my living arrangements going forward.

I was full of doubts – I doubted that I could handle the challenges of Tiny, (semi) off-grid Living; I doubted that I was living in the right place. Part of me wanted to bug out, move to Montreal, Ireland, South America – to get away from everything. I batted around a half-a-dozen locations and ideas. Everywhere from West Dublin to Québec City to Galway to Buenos Aires.

I weighed many pros and cons.

Fear had me in its clutches. Every option I considered felt scary, unsatisfactory and just plain wrong.

Embracing love

While some of my fear is perfectly rational, the worst of it was probably a by-product of my depression. When we feel like we are all alone in the darkness, of course we are afraid. Nothing feels possible – to stay, to go, there is no good option.

Finally, I am coming out of my depression and starting to feel more like myself. Love is starting to raise her voice again. I love my friends and my community on the west bank of the LaHave. I love the beaches, the quiet, the sky. I love my house. It is adorable! Every time I go to check on it, it glows its warm heart at me. It hugs me. I feel absolutely at home.

As usual, it's not Either/Or – it's Both

I'm still scared. I'm not a particularly handy person nor, frankly, am I that interested in becoming one. This is a hard challenge to take on as a single person. I need help, and asking for help is not always my forte. And, at the same time, I want to embrace this challenge and see if I can make it work. I want to engage in the experiment of winterizing my home and living in it through an entire year.

I don't know exactly how I'm going to acheive this. I have some ideas. More will come to me. But I don't know if I will succeed. Maybe it will work for me and maybe it will not. Time will reveal the answers, but only if I try. If I don't try, I will never know.

And while fear is still a factor, I know that this decision is being made from a place of love.

PS: Jim Carey's convocation speach is worth watching in its entirety.

Judgy! Judgy! Judgy!

I've been working on this blog post for a few weeks, trying to find just the right way to say what I would like to say about my experience of being judgmental.

But I've been having trouble getting it right. (Ironic, no?)

Then this afternoon, I saw a link to this story about the Non-Judgmental Ninja meme introduced by Wil Wheaton on his blog.

It looks like a lot of people can relate to being more judgmental (of themselves or others) than they'd like to be.

*****
Let me share my experience:
When I look long and hard at myself, I see that one of my biggest struggles in life is around judging other people — and myself.

I've been a judgy person for as long as I can remember.

As far as I can tell, this behaviour stems out of feeling unsafe.

When I'm in a situation that feels unsafe to me, I use judgment to insulate myself from my feelings of fear. I bring up a formula to judge someone who scares, threatens or triggers me and think "I'm not [insert scary, judged character trait here] and people who are [that way] are terrible people and I don't like them."

I've carried this practice like a shield that I could use whenever I felt threatened – as if, as long as I was able to judge other people, I would never have to be vulnerable myself.

I had a conversation with one of my friends a couple of months ago about judgment and about being more tolerant. And these words popped out of my mouth:

"You know, my judgy-ness is just as worthy of compassion as everyone else's issues are."

And I think that's true. (And that is part of what is so lovely about the Non-judgmental Ninja meme.) My judgment and contempt come from a very damaged, ill-functioning place in my personality. They shield very vulnerable, fragile parts of me.

Judgy-ness defies compassion by seeming strong and aggressive, but it desperately need hugs and understanding – just like the various struggles of many other people do. When I engage in judgments, contempt and self-righteousness, it's a sure-fire sign that I don't feel safe – in fact, I am very probably downright terrified.

So, if you can, please forgive me (or any other judgy person in your life). Reassurance and hugs are  helpful – or maybe draw a little Non-Judgmental Ninja cartoon like this one: