Down the Rabbit Hole

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We all live in our own reality. I knew that expression 2 weeks ago. It was just that to me, an expression, a quote. Some new age hippie bs, whatever.

I always categorized myself as someone who was “kicking ass”. I was a rebellious teen who had really lived an exciting life. Then a successful single mother. I had a silver Mercedes. I had a “dream” career in Hollywood. I admired everything about Harvey Specter from Suits.

Then it all disappeared. My reality was suddenly something very real and I was watching it crumble like a sandcastle.

When I woke up 2 weeks ago, in Calgary Alberta, a single mother of two boys, with no job, staring at an email from my ex’s lawyer that he was listing my house for sale; just like that, everything was clear. Except I couldn’t see it as clear. Every truth felt like a wave crashing into me, leaving my eyes blurry, my ears ringing and terrifyingly disorientated.

My hair was all straggly, I didn’t want to see anyone. In between gasps of air I emailed complete strangers for help. The only person who responded (without a credit card authorization slip) was the fantastic inspiring Alexa Mason. Did I heed her wise advice? Nope. No I did not, I didn’t do anything productive in fact (except become a research expert on just about every new age/self help rabbit hole) without actually helping myself.

I couldn’t accept that I had somehow not kicked ass in life. It had to be something else. It had to be ANYTHING ELSE than me taking responsibility.

Aha! Maybe I hadn’t done enough Feng Shui for April, better go rearrange the entire house,  buy some foo dogs online.

Maybe it’s the high altitude and low barometric pressure changes in Calgary. The weather here could be the reason why my life feels meaningless.

No wait,  what’s this Ascension?!  I am simply “transcending” to a higher existence realm, nailed it. As the hours ticked away, my research into; barometric pressure, vitamin deficiencies, my rh negative blood type, Eastern and Western philosophies, Ascension to name a few… was surprisingly wielding few answers. Googling videos on youtube for “the Secret”, “The Law of Attraction”, “subliminal mind reprogramming while you sleep” I kept waking up feeling exactly the same.

My son asks to watch Transformers, no honey we HAVE to watch Stuart Wilde videos to find mom’s purpose. We have to manifest miracles here kids.

Someone, anyone please tell me how how I feel. Tell me I’m not in charge of my own destiny, tell me I hadn’t created this life. My living room littered with ancient symbols for strength, arabic prayer writings, crystals, my cupboards packed with vitamins and herbal remedies.

The further down the rabbit hole I went the darker it became. This ship had a hole in it, everyone just jump off now, save yourselves!

I am going insane. I just wanted to cry in bed or better get drunk and cry, but I can’t because I’m a mom. And Harvey Specter wouldn’t cry.

I had re started once again, this time in Calgary. Determined to carve out a new life with my son. I quit some bad habits, moved  two thousand miles away from everyone I knew and really thought I could outrun myself. Instead I had repeated myself, with another fatherless son and a general lack of sleep. I was using “my house” as a definition of success. I had a house! So I couldn’t possibly be failing. I had a house just like my neighbors, they seem happy, so I am probably happy too. The boys should be so grateful they have a house, a yard, a car, they are probably happy. Maybe I should spend more money at Ikea making them happy. Start a new project, not finish it, then let it irritate me every time I see it unfinished.

Again, in that reality, we were coasting along, able to take and discard the numerous “wake up Lauren slaps” life kept hitting me with.

If you want to remain the same, don’t ask where God is, or God where are you? Because he will show you. He will show you that your pathetic life is not serving anyone, not yourself, not your kids and definitely not the greater good.

He will crumble your sandcastle and leave you screaming at him, like a toddler in time out. Waiting patiently for you to finish your tantrum so he can teach you how to behave better. And there I was. No sandcastle, two babies, all alone with my reflection, every wave exposing another lie I hadn’t wanted to see.

sandcastle life

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