Rat Race to Rural
Who knew 8 acres in the middle of nowhere could be so healing after loss.
My entire life has been a series of challenges. Right from conception, I had the honour of being the teenage oops resulting in a shotgun marriage. Great start to life.
I “met” a cool young writer on Medium today, Brian Curtin, who wrote about his own challenging life and I love his line “I know deep down that present-day Brian is a much stronger, resilient, and more self-aware person not despite but because of those dark days.”
I could really relate to this comment for myself. Although I do have some regret and even occasionally some resentment about the many wrongs that have been thrust upon me, I mostly think about my challenging life in terms of the gifts that have ensued. I am strong-willed, stubborn and determined — all traits that I chalk up to the shitty life curve balls that were thrown at me.
The overall result: I am a survivor. “No” or “not possible” is not in my vocabulary. I believe that if the front door is not open, there must be a side door or a window I can crawl through. Surely there must be a way!
This attitude has gotten me a Ph.D. and contributed to building a wonderful business that supports Therapists in private practice. I am very proud of these accomplishments, coming from a girl who grew up on welfare.
Then the unthinkable happened. An overdose death of someone very close and dear to me that I could not help, fix or save. This may sound stupid or naive, but it really was the first time I experienced something truly beyond my control. It wreaked havoc on my “I can do anything” belief system, and zapped me of all of my energy and future purpose.
I still got up every day, gave good service to my clients, and ran my business the best I could, but I really wasn’t the same person any more. Losing someone close to me to an overdose affected me in profound ways that quite frankly I don’t even think I can accurately describe, although I did write some blogposts back then to try and get my feelings out:
One plus about living in a big-city rat race is that the current is generally running so quickly that you must keep going not to get dragged down. So I did, and for the most part, it was functional. What I did not perhaps notice was the toll it had been taking on me, and on my marriage. I wouldn’t say my marriage was in trouble, but it certainly wasn’t very healthy.
Fast forward to an opportunity that presented itself to “get out of dodge”. Without much thought my husband and I jumped…into an acreage eight hours away. It was the best thing that happened to us, giving us a fresh perspective with the luxury of more space and time. As the saying goes, “we didn’t know what we didn’t know” until we got out of it.
Four months in I can’t say that I am an expert at this rural stuff, but I love it. The slowness, the fresh air, and the friendliness of the community have all been contributing factors for much needed healing.
My husband and I are pretty much together all of the time, and thriving as a result. We enjoy doing simple things like sharing a pot of coffee in the morning, preparing meals together without a microwave, and hand washing dishes — no dishwasher either.
Back in the city, we were so busy that we had to plan times to be intimate based on us both being home at the same time, which too often might only be a couple of times per week. In order to keep up to the pace and financial pressures, my husband and I both worked two jobs plus. It was brutal, and we didn’t even know it. Now we have more free time, space (literally!) and no mortgage to boot.
We had a good laugh the other day about our increased frequency of sex, my husband adding “well, what else do I have to do?!” Now that is funny! Time is one of the many luxuries a slower lifestyle affords.
Given that my own private therapy practice has always had a focus on sex and the importance it holds in relationships, I know the benefits that are built in when sex is a regular occurrence. Now I get to practice what I preach, and heal in the process.
I realize that not everyone can move their life from city to rural to achieve more balance or to heal from a significant loss. We have been fortunate.
Perhaps if you too have lost a loved one to overdose, or you are just way too busy trying to keep up, see if you can mimic some of the advantages I have mentioned above: slow down, make time for intimacy, hand wash the dishes together. Whatever it may be, honour yourself and the trials that you have endured.
