Taking Up Space
I'll never forget his words. You know, "Brigette just doesn't take up much space in her life..." Spoken by my farmer father in reference to the way I'd been living the last few years of a distant marriage and totally engulfed by raising a daughter in the midst of a corporate merger.
I was standing in the kitchen executing a giant spread of appetizers and wanting to be angry. Instead, all I could feel was relief. It was the truest thing that had been said out loud in a long time. I met his gaze and nodded without my usual discourse. He was completely correct.
There was no space for me.
I was simply exhausted from the years of running on empty. Tired of buying gifts in the airport because I was missing my child. Soul sick at just how little of me that was left around the edges of overwork and the pretending that my marriage was fine. (Truth be told, we were more like associates in a dysfunctional business relationship than intimate partners). I was exhausted by the energy it took not to see the infidelity signposts and from keeping up a brave front.
There wasn't much gas left in the tank and what was there was reserved to make sure my daughter was happy, cherished and secure.
It was a watershed moment that became a stake in the ground. The few years that followed became the unraveling of the suburban façade. A separation. Happy days with my daughter in a rent house near the ocean, growing tomatoes and having cookouts with the neighbors. She rode her bike in the neighborhood and made friends up and down the street. Her Dad spent his time trying to talk us back home with promises of newfound commitment. It almost worked until the discovery (again) of that text string not meant for me. We'd moved across the country by that time in a reconciliation attempt. What that really meant was that I swallowed my anger and put my own needs on a shelf in the back of the closet.
Until I couldn't do it anymore- Not another moment.
Coming back into our new home in Arizona and sensing the energy of how wrong things had become. Knowing that she had been there while I was out of town. Finding out that my daughter knew the shenanigans and was feeling responsible was the final catalyst. I simply refused to move back into the dutiful wife box. A long overdue divorce was executed.
The wild Sonoran desert was exactly what I needed to get my attention.
The expansive spaces and wild beauty captivated me. The silence and stillness. The howl of the coyotes in the wash behind the pool where I'd swim under the cover of darkness. I began to feel again.
I was learning to occupy the space more fully. I'd began to touch the edges of myself again- on my yoga mat, on the paddleboard, and on the miles of walking through my feelings of betrayal. I'd begun to remember my wildness and desire for a deeper, fuller life. I was no longer afraid of leaving, but of what I'd teach my daughter if I stayed. That terrified me. It got my attention in ways that I couldn’t gloss over.
Creating my own space became a new driving force.
A space of creativity, laughter, and warmth. A space for passion and playful exploration. A space for falling in love again. That mountain view restored my heart in ways that I never imagined. I see it in my mind's eye and in my dreams- even now. My snug home that was enough space for us- my daughter and me. It was the healing space that was absolutely necessary to repair the broken parts.
Creating space for what mattered to me launched my coaching business but more importantly launched the juiciest part of my life so far.
Finding love in my fifties with the man that makes me laugh and is captivated by all the parts of me. His shameless romantic streak still takes my breath away even now after a Santa Fe marriage several years ago. We create time for each other. We make space to explore our new state after a move to be near my parents. Our messy blended family works in weird and unexpected ways. Those four kids in their twenties take up a whole lot of space, as does our extended family flung across the globe.
Space is ultimately what I help my clients find.
The space to notice breath and the spin of the mind.
The space for what matters in overstuffed calendars and too full lives. The space to explore what it is that they (really) long for.
The space to honor their sadness at not asking the question earlier.
The space to find pockets of time in the middle of a Tuesday to experience joy and pleasure, rather than trying to cram it into a two-week overdue vacation.
The space to notice something other than just the loudest thing in the surroundings..
The space for our own passion instead of pouring from a parched spirit that is crying out for attention.
This is the space I occupy now. A space of unapologetic creativity and passion.
A space for me and for my people.
Where I can breathe and find my way home again and again.
