New House, New Rules

Friends recently stopped by with a couple of cute little housewarming presents - like this super cool tiger candle - and asked what I liked best about the new house.

I think they were expecting me to talk about the big windows in the kitchen or the way the early morning light hits the back porch. Instead, I immediately said:

"It's a space I've never been yelled at in."

Judging by the silence that followed, I think the answer surprised all of us.

These rooms won't see me shrink or walk on eggshells. No one's bad mood will suck up all the air. I won't mistake criticism for truth. I won't agree to things because speaking up feels pointless. No one will walk away as I’m mid sentence or treat my feelings like problems.

What I was really describing didn’t have anything to do with the actual house. I was just noticing the peace. Not the calm that comes from everything going right, but the kind that comes from no longer being afraid for things to go wrong. 

It’s upsetting how easily we adapt to things and how quickly we learn to work around discomfort.

We normalize dynamics that would look heartbreaking if they were happening to someone we love. Little by little, we stop noticing the ways we're disappearing and call it being easygoing, accommodating, and understanding.

Then one day, someone asks what you like about your new house and you realize the answer has absolutely nothing to do with the house.

I can't change what I tolerated in the past but I can decide what gets access to me now.

Maybe the future holds a romantic love that feels easy to breathe inside. But, maybe it doesn't.

Being alone is not the opposite of love - abandoning yourself is. 

Once you've experienced the peace of living fully inside your own life, it's impossible to settle for anything that asks you to disappear.