Finding Happiness Amongst Chaos

I need to start this post off by saying this - I’m tired.

I’ve been moving, painting and glamping in my new home for 15 days. 5 days to move, 3 full days of painting, and the balance spent digging for my belongings in the unsorted boxes. I would like to say thank you to Sofi Tukker for getting me through all of it; listening to dance music kept me going through this marathon. At the end of the 4th of July long weekend (or for those of us feeling unpatriotic, these days we called it government day with fireworks) I finally sat down in my Tommy Bahama chair (currently the only seating in my house) after going through 6 gallons of primer and another 6 gallons of paint on the walls and ceiling. I felt like I’d never back up again. I must have stayed there for at least an hour, hoping that someone would magically appear with a cold margarita. That was July 6 and I still feel too tired to put the covers on the electrical outlets and switches. The new curtains? Yes, I was too tired to hang them up Sunday evening so I tacked a sheet over my bedroom window and called it a day.

As a friend pointed out to me, I have moved 3x in less than a year. You would think I would be good at it by now but this move kicked my ass.

It could be that within the last 3 months I finished mediation, got divorced, bought a condo, planned a remodel, coordinated materials and trades for said remodel, found a temporary roommate for the place I was renting, traveled to the mainland twice, lost my grandma, couch surfed for a week while the flooring was going in at my condo, didn’t sleep well for two weeks, moved into my new place without lights and power in the bedroom, went from no furniture to a bed and a makeshift kitchen, worked the whole time and have been living out of a suitcase and a few boxes.

The wonderful thing is, amid this chaos, there have been moments where I have been ridiculously happy. So happy I surprised myself.

One of these moments was when I was driving to my condo along South Kihei Road early in the morning on day 3 of painting, soaking in my neighborhood, gazing at the still ocean, and stopping to get coffee number two. I was overcome with tears, feeling incredibly grateful for my life and the blessing of my new home.

After dwelling in such sadness for the last 2-3 years, when the fog lifted and I felt such happiness that my heart might burst at the seams, this was a feeling I had forgotten about. It had been so long since I felt this way that I didn’t believe the feeling would ever come back.

Sometimes you don’t realize how lifeless you have been inside until your heart is fully ripped open and put back together again. I don’t say this to be overdramatic but this is something I have thought a lot about lately - it is only now that I am here on the other side of leaving a marriage that I didn’t want to admit wasn’t working that I understand that I had only been half alive in the last few years of my life.

Yes, I still have days and moments where the sadness returns, but they are fewer and far between. Lately, there has been a lightness in my life. I laugh easily, the small things don’t bother me like they used to, and, although I don’t know what my future holds (which is sometimes exhilarating and sometimes scary), I am filled with hope. All of this I sum up together as being happy.

I’m not happy because I’m glad I got divorced or that my marriage ended. I am happy because I am back to being me. The truest essence of myself as someone who can endure hardship and still see the beauty of life. A person who is willing to risk it all to follow her heart. A person who is brave enough to know that it was better to embrace the unknown rather than stay in a relationship that wasn’t working. A person who doesn’t take the easy road, not because she is unafraid, she may be afraid but heads forth anyway because she knows in her soul that this is the path forward. She believes and sees that these moments that threaten to break you, are the ones that let you know you are truly alive.

I’m sitting in my new home among piles of boxes with one fork, one knife, 4 bowls, a cutting board and a Tommy Bahama chair, and I give my deepest thanks.

I may not fully unpack for another month while I wait for my kitchen cabinets to arrive and I’m okay with that.

I’ll take my time, slowly cleaning up the construction dust and picking out the dishes and silverware that I adore, creating a new home and a new chapter.