When transitions hurt.

I watched him drive away with all 5 of them in our truck and I slowly walked down the stairs to the house that has become my favorite place on earth.

I waved. Then turned. He honked the horn and inside of that sound I knew it was as hard for him to be inside of this new transition as it was for me. I turned and waved again.

I made my way through the house and found myself on the deck overlooking the water. The tears poured out of me in that way where you don't even realize you are about to cry, you just are.

This would be my first week with myself. Out of The Loft. Home at The Magic Lake House. I was out of the industrial mill building I had been calling home for the last two years, where there are people all around all the time. The week's without the kids were spent with my love sleeping next to me each night and with his daily visits as he works in the building.

The Lake House is quiet. Private. There aren't people walking to the coffee shop down the hall or sitting on the little cement deck. Cars don't come and go all day. The talking bus that stopped right outside my window, and would wake us at 6am each day doesn't have a route here.

It is birds. And the gray fox. And the sounds of boats on the water. The occasional squeal of delighted children jumping into the lake. The wind and rain are the sound machines.

I realized as I could feel my body shaking with the cry that had come over me, that this was the first time since leaving my house, since starting to co-parent, since divorcing, since the biggest transitions of my life that I wasn't inside of fight or flight.

There was someone at my side, caring for me. Offering me space to heal, to change, to find my next steps without fear.

My life for the last two years has been electricity charged fear and chaos. The fear has propelled me. Made me a bit crazy and alive but what it has done to my body feels devastating. And as I cried I could feel the hurt and the loss and the fear that have been lodged inside of me whisper that they were ready to go now. Their job was done. They protected the parts of me that had to survive on my own, to support these kids on my own, to be in constant fear of failing everything and everyone. And my body was exhausted. My belly bulging from the cortisol fight or flight that came from months of not knowing, from months of the most stress I have ever been inside of.

I haven't felt 'me' in so long.

Here I was on the deck of my favorite place on earth, sobbing, in the sunlight, releasing fears into the Universe to transform into my next becoming.

And for the last few days I have gifted myself water. And long walks. And yoga. And meditations. And a little jogging. And tinctures. And vitamins. And sleep. And eating what I want, when I want. Or not. Daydreaming into the water. Working in the way I used to, not about struggle for surviving but because this work is my dharma. It is about love and change and openings. And I miss them. And this is the greatest gift I will ever give them. Healing me so that they-he-we, all become safe.

I look in the mirror 6 days later, after the transition. A transition born of transitions. I can see me again. I can feel me again.

Last night he arrived.

We spent the first hour tangled in touch and words of adoration and the sexual charge that comes from having been apart. That first kiss after days without any touch from another human is bliss wielding joy.

Then I got on the computer under the setting sun over the water to chat with my magic making circle and he went down the dock to fish. I watched him as the sun melted down and the bugs were buzzing in my hair.

This is my new life. We have co-created it together. It has been hard. Work. The tearing down of old stories and the shit that has kept us fighting the other.

Flames. Ashes. Pain. Pushing. Struggle. Heart-break.

I could feel their gift as I watched his body relax from the week. As I could see his body physically relaxing now that he was back in my arms. On our dock. With his magic fish. Home. Transitioned. Loved more than any man has ever been loved before.

This is my new life. One born of co-creation inside of the magic of love. I am not meant to walk without him.

This is my new life. Learning to let him offer me support and nurture while I heal and love our children. While I let the Universe guide my dreams into a reality that I know will be better than what I have yet to vision.

This is our freedom plan Transitions that have become our new life.

The kiss of ease. Peace. The touch of everything we are dreaming inside of God's hands.

The kids come on Sunday and we will transition. I will line up the lunch boxes and water bottles and write the little notes about room assignments and projects and ways to be helpful and magical chores. I will be back inside of what is most comfortable to me. Being mama. Being love. Being surrounded by chaos and snuggles and bickering and feeding and the feeling at night when they are finally asleep and that first breath you take...

...as you transition again.