A Stitch In Time

The impossible has happened. Turns out, I was... wrong about the house. You know, the grey one with white trim that I thought we were supposed to move into? No one really told me I was wrong. Rather, I looked in the mirror one day and heard, "Start looking for houses." And I protested with, "But you said..." and all I heard, again, was "Start looking for houses." And so I did. That day. And with a quick internet search I found the house that we now have a contract on. 

Don't get me wrong. I love our new house. It's absolutely perfect for us in every way. It has an indoor pool, (I KNOW, RIGHT?!) and all the bedrooms we need. Plus an open floor plan and pretty floors. I even love the colors on the walls, which means I won't be 9 months pregnant and paint-supervising, (with a mask on, of course). It's near-perfection in a home, and by some grace of God, we can afford the loan.

And still, part of me can't get over the fact that I "was told" about the other house. 

And so, as over-thinkers do, I've come up with a variety of sensible reasons to explain this mishap. Maybe the Universe just wanted to hold me off for awhile, make me think that the house was already chosen so that I didn't find my dream home too early. Interestingly, the home we are buying did experience a recent price-cut, so waiting wasn't a bad thing. Or, maybe, I really was supposed to focus on one thing at a time. First, getting our house on the market, and then, finding a new home. As it is, we still have to wait for our house to sell before we can make the move official (which is killing me by the way, but more on that later).  Or maybe there is a reason that I won't ever get to know. Maybe, (gasp!) I'm not supposed to know everything.

I read a great article this morning about a yoga teacher who learned not to despair when, in the beginning, no one showed up to his classes. He learned that the acts of getting himself to the studio, preparing the lighting and music, and rolling out his mat were all important practices. He further learned that waiting as no one showed, and feeling disappointment, (and I'll just add shame in there, even though he didn't mention it), were also practices, and that they taught him humility, patience, and equilibrium. I remember when I was first starting my psychology practice, I worked with this idea. I would show up at the office that I rented and stay there for the hours that I was allotted, even if I had no scheduled sessions. Just being there was my practice. Eventually, I got so busy that I would relish a free hour, but in the beginning, all I had was hope, and a twig of trust that might have broken if coughed upon .

So, what if the same lessons are being presented to me now? What if I am being asked to take my ego out of the situation and stop looking at what, or who, is right and wrong? What if it is being pointed out to me that although I may be a conscious individual, I am still human, living on Earth, and therefore, poised for all kinds of detours in my chosen path?

And let us not forget the matter of actually selling our house, which is certainly an exercise in patience, trust, humility, and extreme mood-swings. It's been less than two weeks, but stories of houses selling in one week in our neighborhood raised my expectations, a tiny bit. I just want to have it done so we can move, and I can enjoy the rest of my pregnancy without such a huge change looming ahead of me. But I can almost hear the answer now: 

"What makes you think you can enjoy yourself there when you can't do it where you are now? Show us what enjoyment looks like. Take your mind off the move, and it will happen."

This is the kind of passive aggressive message my mind loves to taunt me with. And what makes me even more mad, is that I know she is right.

Last night, I had a two second dream that my husband was shouting, "We got the offer!!" It was only a dream, but for now, it will have to suffice as padding for my twig of trust. Meanwhile, I will try my best to enjoy these last few (weeks?) at this house, and I will be grateful for my lessons in humility and patience. They may not be the flashy and fun lessons that we all love, but, they are just as important; for they just may be the key to keeping one foot in both worlds.

Patiently,

Hayley

Country Road Take Me Home

It's a boy!!

We knew that though, didn't we? You would think that this thing of trusting myself, or my intuition, or God, or the Universe, or whatever you want to call the voice that I hear when I'm extremely calm, would be easy. But it's not. Still, I'm working on it because I believe it's a lot better than walking around with fear and anxiety about what will happen next in my life. Plus, I've always believed that the more you trust, the more information will be shared. And it seems that's exactly what has started happening to me.

The latest message that I've received is that we are to move around October. That we will sell this house, and move to a house, a grey house, that’s within walking distance of an athletic club with an indoor/outdoor pool! It was said that the house has two triangle roof structures with a flatter structure in-between. I was told that Gabriel wants to be born in that house, (I’m really hoping this was figurative), and that I needn't worry about how we will afford it, or the fact that it's not yet for sale, that, indeed, everything will work out. Oh, and that I need to stay out of the way of the process. Like little old me would ever be in the way? Ha.

Mind you, this message came after months, or maybe even years, of me having the same dream every night and not “getting it.” The dream was that I was moving into my dorm room at the University of Miami, except that I could not find it. Of course the dream had variants, but basically it was the same. Every. Single. Night. I even talked to two therapists about this, and none of us could see the forest through the trees. It was about moving! Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar. Since I realized that we needed to move, the dream has, mercifully, stopped, and I no longer feel like I’m living the movie “Groundhog Day.”

A few days after I realized what this recurring dream really meant, I got the message about where we were to move. The day after that, my husband and I drove to said athletic club, where we both noticed a street that curved upward and decided to turn on it. After a fork in the road, we decided to go left, and 3 houses in, on the right, was the house I had imagined. Interestingly, this is exactly how to get to our house now. Turn left, and three houses down, we are on the right. And just as the message warned, it was not for sale.

In fact, with some research, we were able to find that the house sold just shy of a year ago. That scares me because I don’t understand why someone would sell it so quickly, unless they were “flipping” it, in which case it could end up way out of our price range. “Don’t worry about the cost,” they had said. Easier said than done.

The fact that it sold recently was helpful in that we got to see the listing, and what it looks like inside. It has 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and a huge great room with vaulted ceilings and skylights, a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, and a completely open design. The bedrooms have carpet, which I’m not crazy about, and the bathrooms looked a little small, but overall it is a beautiful house, and yes, it’s walking distance to an Olympic-sized swimming pool!

One of our main worries was how we would sell our home, since every time we’ve had it appraised, it came up short of what we needed. But after a new realtor came and did her research, she concluded that we could list it for more than we owe. Phew! And so, we are having our roof cleaned and our lawn prettied, and then listing our home. Presumably, so that we can move into the new digs that Gabriel picked for us.

I can see how this sounds crazy. And it seems that everyone else in the world finds a house first, and then sells theirs. But if we were to truly believe in the spirit world, why would this be crazy at all? Do we really think that we know more than all of the unseen forces out there? I certainly don’t. So why not trust a voice, a vision, or a spirit guide, who tells you something useful?

I’ve always loved Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ work. She is a renowned author, Jungian analyst, curandara, and storyteller. It is through her recording, “Mother Night: Learning to See in the Dark,” that I learned to view messages from the other-world as commonplace. She calls them the big “so what”? Not to take away from the importance of the message, but to illustrate the normality of the unseen world, and to validate that these messages are available to anyone who is willing to listen. I am no more special or psychic than any other sentient being, I just have my ears wide open.

What will I do if I sell my house and this other house still isn’t on the market? I will ask for guidance, and I will receive it at the necessary time. The process will unfold with me having minimal involvement. This, by the way, is the exact opposite to how I was raised to do things. In the past, I would have already seen 25 houses, and gotten my heart broken while each one sold, while I’m still waiting for the roof guy. I already know, the road that neurotic behavior takes me down. This time, I'm following a new path by practicing patience and trust, and I believe that this road will take me home.

Blessings,

Hayley

Freedom Doesn't Come From A Bottle

Today is the day I've been waiting for! I finally got the call from my doctor's office, the one that was supposed to confirm my intuition, and tell me that I am, in fact, having a healthy baby boy. This call was supposed to ease my mind, and give me a reason to go out for dinner. Well, can you guess what happened? 

No, I wasn't wrong, and shame on you for thinking so! 

The test did not work on me. Apparently, I don't have enough fetal matter in my blood, whatever that means, so no results are available. Seriously?! After two weeks of waiting, this is what they call to tell me? And, of course, it wasn't the brand-new, not-exactly-tried-and-true test that was at fault, it was my blood. My fetal-lacking blood. 

The nurse suggested that I redo the test, and, initially, I agreed. But then I got to thinking. Why, if I believe in myself, am I putting myself through this stress? Why would I make another trip to the doctor's office, have more blood drawn, and wait another two weeks for results that I don't actually need? I mean, as far as the gender goes, he's either a boy, or a girl, and truthfully, I'd be thrilled either way, even if I would be a little confused about why I was initially "told" he is a boy. And, as far as testing for genetic abnormalities, that too does not matter to me. Either way, I'm going to love this baby, so why do I need to know now, exactly what I will be dealing with in 6 months? Plus, I hear there are false positives with these tests, and, if my first try produced no results, God only knows what a second try would offer. 

So, I decided, that today is the day that I take back my power. I realized that I can say no to all of this. I don't have to get up early tomorrow to go have blood drawn. Instead, I can sleep in, and just enjoy the little movements in my belly. I can continue to build a relationship with Gabriel, by just being here with him, and I can teach him about trusting oneself by refusing to let a test result determine my mood. Plus, I can show him about living with flow, the art of paying attention to the many cues around us every day. In fact, these inconclusive results weren't the first clue that maybe this test was unnecessary. There was also some confusion at the doctor's office about this procedure, and although it got resolved, the lack of smooth flow stuck in my mind. 

So, today, I am free. I don't need a medical procedure to tell me what my soul already knows. There is a beautiful, healthy, baby boy growing inside of me, and I am so damn lucky.

Hayley

Unless Mercury Is In Retrograte, I Don't Want To Hear About It!

What kind of person starts a blog, writes three entries, and then ignores it for 2 months?

One who got pregnant, approximately one second after starting said blog.

It's not that I haven't wanted to write, I have, but writing about anything other than the fact that I'm creating a new human seemed inauthentic, and even though I told Facebook about the little seed far too early, I just didn't want to do that here. 

So, here I am. Telling you now, just as I'm starting my second trimester. Right at the time that pregnant women are supposed to share such news. And that's the foundation for today's soap box. The ever growing list of do's and dont's for us life-givers. Maybe it's because this is my second pregnancy, but I'm just not buying it anymore. I'm eating tuna, because it makes me feel full without feeling sick. I'm not exercising, because when I do I feel nauseas, and, perhaps the most scandalous, I stopped taking my pre-natal vitamins, because they were causing stomach problems. Yep, I'm pretty much the anti-Christ of pregnancy. But, you know what? I feel a zillion times better than I did with my first one, where I stuck to every rule like glue. Not that correlation equals causation, but still.

I suppose that being a generally healthy woman has kept me out of too many doctor's offices, so when I get pregnant it's kind of a culture shock to be monitored so closely. And I love my OB, don't get me wrong, but would it be too much to ask for her to just say, "Go forth and multiply!" without the mercury speech? I don't kow, maybe I'm putting too much weight on external validation, but wouldn't it be awesome if practitioners were a little encouraging? You know after they scare the crap out of us with all of the things that might go wrong over the next 9 months.

But of all the things that I would like support on, it's this one: I know, I mean I KNOW, that I am having a boy. It's not that I prefer a boy or wish for a boy, I KNOW that I am having one. I know this because as I was falling asleep one night, several months before I conceived, a voice told me so. Maybe it was God, or an Angel, or my highest-self, but someone other than my conscious-self said very clearly, that I was having a boy, and his name would be Gabriel. I haven't told many people, until now, how I know, but I've shared what I know, and the response has been 50/50, with 50% agreeing and 50% sharing stories of how they thought they knew, but were wrong. And maybe half of the first 50 are secretly thinking that I'm nuts. Next week, a blood test will confirm the sex of this being inside me, and then people will believe me. But why does it have to be that way? Why can't a woman's knowing be enough?

I say we start a movement. Let's know what we know and share it with others, even if the way that we came across this knowledge seems a little strange. It's just like Jerry said, "Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right."

Hayley

A Fendi Bag And A Bad Attitude

The other day, I watched a Netflix documentary called, "Scatter My Ashes At Bergdorf's." It was a historical/political/social commentary on the iconic New York department store, and what it means to be a client, and/or, a designer for the retail giant. I found it fascinating, which is not surprising considering my love for "Sex and The City," "Gossip Girl," and all things NYC fashionista. But as much as I love the idea of 6 inch Loubitin's, I wouldn't be caught dead in them. In fact, I have a love-hate relationship with the entire fashion industry.

The documentary featured many well-known designers like the Alexander McQueen and Marc Jacobs, as well as the original ice princess, Anna Wintour. 

Although, if we gave Princess Elsa a bob...

But it was someone unknown, at least to me, who made the statement that I just can't forget. She said, and I'm paraphrasing, that the reason that we need stores like Bergdorf's in this country is because we need people to keep striving to be better. That striving is part of the American dream. On the contrary, I think that always trying to be, and do, more is what ails our country, and causes so much depression among it's residents.

I'll admit, that fashion, and consumerism in general can be fun, exciting, creative, and possibly even empowering. But when we use words like retail therapy, I think we cross over to the dark side, because nothing external can ever solve anything internal. Ever.

Until the age of 32, I bought into this paradigm. I got excellent grades in high school, so that I could go to college. I did wonderfully in college, in order to be accepted to graduate school. I excelled in graduate school to get an internship, a post doc, my license, a practice, and so on, until I realized that I was on a wheel that would never stop turning. That's when my husband and I moved to North Carolina to slow things down a bit. But even here, in our beautiful mountain home, I can still fell the pull to do more, be more, achieve more. When will it stop?

That's why I say we all need to make a conscious decision to stop striving and start being. There is no better time than right here and right now. As Dave Matthews sings, "wash out this tired notion that the best is yet to come." Enjoy the moment. Today. Regardless of what, or who, you are wearing.

 

Yours freely,

Hayley

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Today I decided to get a couple of pieces of clothing altered. The garments are actually new buys, that I loved so much, that I ignored the fact that neither were my size. One is too big and the other too small. So, I traveled down the road to my favorite seamstresses, both of whom I think are octegenarians. I affectionately refer to them as "the ladies." I've called upon these ladies many times in the past, as is necessary when one is vertically challenged. But, today when I opened the door to their shop, the ladies were nowhere to be seen. A cohort of theirs informed me that the seamstresses are only on site Tuesday through Thursday, so I would have to come back next week. I stood there, knowing that today is Friday, but not wanting to move, as if somehow this aggregious error could be corrected with enough will. I half expected the ladies to appear, as if this was all an early April fool's joke. Finally, when the socially acceptable pause for me to comprehend this new information had well passed, I faked a smile and left the store. 

Of course, I could have taken my clothes somewhere else, but no one in town rivals the accuracy and precision of the ladies. So, I realized, I would just have to wait. Four whole days, until I can even drop off my clothes, and then who knows how long until they are ready. I cursed myself for not thinking to complete this errand yesterday, and then I cursed the whole town for having such "country" hours. Finally, I cursed myself for being upset about such a minor inconvenience when there are people in many countries who have no clothes at all, not to mention clean water or enough nutrition.

What I want, and what I eventually got, was to see this annoyance as an opportunity. They say that you can tell a lot about a person by how he responds to lost luggage and rain on his birthday. I want to be the kind of person that responds with grace and gratitude for all experiences, not just the ones that "go my way." After all, how many times have I looked back and thanked God for not getting what I wanted at the time? I may never know the true reason for today's happenings. Maybe I needed more practice with patience, or maybe, gasp, the reason has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the ladies needing their beauty rest. But, what I do know is that life is better lived with flow, and it is my wish to step into it with faith and good intentions. Life is like a waterfall, and once you put yourself in it's path you can either enjoy the ride or fight 'til the death. Today, I choose enjoyment. 

With Gratitude,

Hayley

Almost Fictitious

Hello and Welcome To My Blog!

I know, I know. Everyone has a blog these days, but I really need one. You see, I'm a writer, and a licensed clinical psychologist, and, not to be conceited, but I have some really important things to say. It's taken me almost a decade to admit this, even though every soul sign in the Universe keeps telling me to write, and "share my gifts" with others. Trust me, it's not that I think I know it all. But, somehow, I've got to get past my fear of narcissism and do what I was brought to this Earth to do.

So, I'm starting this blog for a few reasons. One, because, evidently, I am supposed to write. Two, because I find it increasingly hard to find funny, entertaining writing with a positive message. And, three, because sometimes, as I'm working on my current book, "The Kokopelli Complex: The Relationship Between Creativity And Addiction," I'm given insights that I just have to share: Now! Waiting has never been my strong suit.

So, I hope you'll enjoy this page, and check back often.
This is me, so you know who you're dealing with.

Love,
Hayley