Stories of transformation have always been deeply fascinating to me.
The rising phoenix. Butterflies. Even shows like Intervention, The Biggest Loser, Starting Over, and Hoarders. Witnessing complete chaos and destruction transform into order and restoration moves me in a way nothing else can.
I suppose that’s why blowing up my life has never intimidated me.
On multiple occasions, I’ve packed up and left entire states when I stopped liking a city. I have never been afraid to set fire to my life to pursue a different one. A proverbial pyromaniac, if you will.
I’m not sure when, but I stopped setting fires for my own pleasure and started imploding my life to impress others. I began blowing up my life to rebel, to prove I wasn’t stuck. I wanted it to appear that I was a professional fire starter, an expert magician, and a master builder.
My attempts at creating an aesthetic of wholeness birthed new areas of brokenness. My cosplay of freedom over time has kept me bound.
Strangely, I think I got addicted to the thrill of watching my life burn. Once it became clear that I knew how to rise from the ashes, I began looking for things to ignite. But I’m not in my 20s anymore. I have a daughter who needs me to put the matches down.
Unlike before, I moved to Dallas with pure motives.
I researched. I prayed. I consulted. A year ago, I wanted to land a remote writing position that would allow me to leave Las Vegas and move to a place with great schools and green spaces to play in. I did that. But, I have one more fire to set.
It’s time to blow up the illusion.
I’ve built this new life on uneven ground to appear I’m on solid footing. I’m not. I moved too quickly and said yes to too much, creating unnecessary hardship during a season of overwhelming abundance. This last burn, a controlled burn, will clear the way for new growth and replenish the soil.
I can see myself now. I’ve learned the difference between blowing up my life to prove a point and blowing up my life to initiate lasting change.
I am becoming untethered to upholding the illusion of living so that I can truly live. After decades of performing for an uninterested (and sometimes nonexistent) crowd, today I surrender into being. God is good.