The Yellow Door Life

I was with my ex-husband for just over a decade between dating and being married. 

In all those years together, the thing that he said to me that sticks with me most is this:

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up alone.”

He said this when he left my house in anger after packing most of his stuff. 

It’s ironic that he said that to me, because I married him because I was scared of being alone for the rest of my life, and here we were unknowingly at the beginning of our separation and eventual divorce. 

Alone.

What does it actually mean to be alone? 

I think I was worried about not having a husband and kids, so I married him so I would have those things. But even while married to him, I was in fact, alone.

Alone in my beliefs.

Alone in my goals. 

Alone in my sobriety. 

I didn’t fully understand what marriage was about, because at first, it all seemed normal, we were just different people.

It wasn’t until many years later that I came to a full understanding of what had happened to me, and in many ways, is still happening.

…

When things get hard and I feel like I’m only being burdened with new crosses, before the old ones are resolved, I get stuck in my own head, a lot. I start thinking, what if he was right, what if I really do end up alone? It’s a constant ghost that follows me around and waits until I’m feeling vulnerable to remind me that the fear of being alone still lives somewhere within me. 

…

The last few years of my life have been intense. 

Everything my world was, had changed, and it was exciting and new, but after you get into a routine and sit with your daily life, that honeymoon bubble begins to fall apart.

It’s not to say that I don’t love Tennessee, I do. It’s still a beautiful place with so much to explore. I love my kids here. I have a couple friends who I have made that will always be my people. 

But something is still missing.

The void still exists. 

The void of people who fulfill a role that no amount of exploration, inner work, or stuff could ever replace. 

On some level, I think I picked Tennessee because I only knew one person coming out here.

At the time, I wanted the void.

I wanted to move to a place where no one knew me and I had no past. 

I convinced myself that I was going to spontaneously create the life I was always meant to have, here. 

But nearly 3 years later and there is still just the void.

I have my house, my dogs, my work. My mom is here, but only temporarily. 

I have a routine.

But I am still lacking in purpose. 

I found a career with purpose.

But my purpose is not just to be a teacher.

I was built for more and called to more. 

…

I knew I couldn’t stay in Colorado.

I’ve tried Tennessee.

But I’m still alone.

I have been exploring my choice to come here and allowing myself to redefine what I want. I wanted Tennessee, but it doesn’t mean I have to be here forever. Honestly, nothing is forever. What matters is that I live this life with no regrets and there are some things that I will definitely regret not doing. 

Tennessee is a chapter that I need. I know that with certainty. But Tennessee may not be the final destination. And that is becoming clearer by the day. 

This last week of school was super intense emotionally, and not all in a good way. I had to work through some serious baggage as those words floated around in my head again, “If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up alone.”

Saying goodbye to another class of kids only reminds me all the more that as much as I am part of their life, I am also, not. They are not MY kids and I, unlike them, do not have another family to go home to. 

I tried so hard to escape the terrible life I had created in Colorado, that I rushed into the unknown, and felt like I had to accept that it too, was all there is.

I created a box once again for my life and became scared to let go of the box.

God doesn’t like boxes though.

He wants us to be flexible and willing to accept that we aren’t always going to get something right on the first, second, or heck, even third try. 

I’m still exploring what comes next for me, but all I know is that my heart feels pulled to a place that I have avoided because of fear. Because of loss. Because of a man who is no longer part of my life, but forever changed my definition of alone. 

I planned a whole road trip this summer to help me reunite with my roots, which as it turns out are not actually about a location. Roots are relationships. They are the people in our lives. I can live anywhere in the world, but if I don’t have my people, I will never feel grounded. 

I’ve invested nearly 30 years in some of my relationships and when I moved to Tennessee, I put a great distance between myself and them. I isolated myself really well, which is now causing a greater ache in my heart than I anticipated. 

I moved from one extreme to another. 

So now, I need to find a balance. 

I can be alone.

I am good at being alone. 

But I have to have people.

My people.

So now it’s time for me to figure out where I have people, purpose, and can build my peaceful, simple life out in the country. 

Once I do that, being alone will become a choice, a respite, and a joy, rather than a punishment, fear, or terrible twist of fate. 

❤