When the ground falls out.

I woke up around 1:15am to go up to the bathroom and then put the $3 I had next to my bed under our youngest little one's pillow. A front tooth knocked out and ready for the tooth fairy.

The stairs were unfamiliar as we were 'camping' at our friend's, staying in the magical tree house, gorgeous, new addition they are building to their home on their own.  I felt wobbly and unsettled. I made my way to the room where the boys were sleeping and I couldn't walk straight. I fumbled and somehow managed to put the money just under the pillow, as I was unable to lift it or bend down without falling.

I got to the toilet and was sure I was going to throw up. I made it down the stairs, laid down and my body started shaking with shivers and it took all my breath to not throw up. 

If I turned my head to the right I could make the room stop spinning just enough to feel like I could go back to sleep. I have had some vertigo in the past and thought that my allergies must have blocked my ears up and was sure it would pass.

Around 3am I had to go to the bathroom again and this time I could hardly walk. I was embarrassed for anyone to know so I crawled up the stairs on my hands and knees, went pee and started back down. I went to find the ground and it wasn't there.

The ground wasn't there. I was grabbing the railing and the wall, I could feel that there were sides, a left and right. But top and bottom, the ground and the sky were gone.

I screamed for Dave. "I need you."

In seconds he was there holding onto my body that didn't know how to move, how to find its next step. 

"Babe, I'm dizzy, everything is spinning, I can't find the ground."

He got me to bed and I found the same position for my head and slowly stopped feeling like I would puke.

A few hours later we had a puppy and multiple children jumping all over our air mattress. I prayed that it was gone. I needed to pee again.

I sat up just a tiny bit and there it was. Dave started helping me to the bathroom up the stairs again and it was like the stairs were jello. And they were everywhere and nowhere. I screamed for a bowl to throw up in. I was shivering again. Freezing. Crying. Scared.


In the last two years I have left my home. My marriage of 18 years. Learned to live financially on my own with no help running a business I create daily with three kids. Started a new business. Fallen in love with a man who was also leaving a marriage. Fallen in love with two kids from this man. Divorced. Lost friendships inside of all this change. Left the Loft that was my home and retreat space in all the transition years. Put everything into storage. Created a new retreat spot in NH. Lost our family dog. Lived in NH with 5 kids for the summer. Visioned and dreamt around manifesting a new home. Found the new home. Moved boxes out of storage into the new home. All while trying to mother and partner and love and run a business and nurture the women who circle with me.

And it felt like I was doing nothing well. At the same time, I knew. For an HSP who lives and breathes by home and ritual and routine and knowing what to expect, this was pure chaos. Even if it was all the things I was drawing forth.

The scramble of change and iterating. Before the reality of what now can be. 

If I could just wake up and make pancakes with a warm cup of coffee and know that everyone I loved was with me and safe and that I wasn't failing my life could it all be ok again?


I don't manifest slowly. It is usually so fast that I have to be careful what I am calling in. Sometimes I am scared to dream more or bigger. But I have no choice. This is who I am.

I kept saying that I couldn't find the ground beneath my feet. Until one day I woke up and literally couldn't find the ground. It was gone and the world was spinning.

The metaphor and the reality. Fused. One. Seamless.

The boxes have stayed unpacked. The visions of surprising the kids with their rooms set up and decorated by the time school started are now visions of having enough room for them to walk through the house.

The deadlines are going unmet. Even though they are my deadlines, my Stories from a Friday that I never missed sending are now coming out on a Wed or a Sunday. I have 3 calendars all in different places and no internet at the new house and I am working to get the NH lake house ready for the next retreat.

And I am so dizzy. I wake up dizzy. I go to bed dizzy.


They got me from the bathroom and moved me to a bedroom upstairs. I couldn't open my eyes. My head needed to stay just to the right.

I could hear them talking. Jenny told Dave she had found a technique on YouTube that could help with the vertigo. They were watching it a few times to learn it.

They asked if I wanted the kids in the room or not. I asked if there were kids in there. They laughed. "Yes, a few."

I opened my eyes and saw some of our 5 and some of Jenny's 3 sitting around the room, quiet, watching. They are such loves. And they were scared and confused.

I remember doing the movements to help with the vertigo and then laying back down in bed with a wash cloth. Every now and then one of the kids would come and rub my back or my arm. Jenny rubbed oils on my chest and my feet, behind my ears. Dave tried to make me laugh and was the most amazing partner. He was supposed to be spending his morning on a dirt bike and instead was by my side, helping with all the kids and the packing up and me.


I drove to Starbucks and parked right outside of the door. If I get the right spot I can use the free internet from the van. I took out my computer and phone and got on my live coaching call for my magic making circle. Then I went to pick up my daughter for school shopping. Then I went home to unpack just a bit before heading back to NH to help host a work event for Dave.

In and out of dizzy. Grateful each time my feet can feel the ground. 

It is still there. I can feel it, find it, trust it, honor it.

Living the metaphor that I can't find the ground beneath my feet. Grateful for everything I have and am calling in. Watching all the chaos from the last two years start to unscramble, like the stairs that seemed to be turning to jello, now solidifying again as I watch.

Each week I send my newsletter out and no one can respond because the email got tagged as spam or something. So each week, lonely, as I send out the words and nothing comes back. I can't feel the ground.

So many details that need to be tended to and fixed. Today I am switching newsletter services, hoping I will once again be able to receive words. Two kids in middle school. Five different homes between me, Dave and our kids. Businesses that no longer make sense the way they used to with new social media algorithms and networking and marketing not as cozy and loving as they had been in the past. Trying to keep up, stay ahead. Looking for the ground, the ground. 


How do we do it all?

We don't. We just take a step. Then another step. We let go of the perfectionism and send the letter on Sunday instead of Friday when the dizziness calms down. We let them come to the new house with boxes everywhere instead of beautifully decorated rooms, and let them be part of creating the magic. We continue to say prayers with our morning coffee, because that ritual is our touchpoint of knowing who we are.

We step again trusting that the ground will be there and knowing that if we can't find it, someone who loves us will be there to take our arm. To guide us. To remind us that we don't have to do it all alone.