Maybe you used the Dark Moon ritual I posted last week to release some gunk. I burned away emotions rooted in feeling unloved and unworthy, both catalyzed by illness, yes, but also by deep rooted family issues revealed in this time.
When we moved from Portland to Eugene my family was going to help us buy a house. This was a critical component to us moving here, as the rental market in Eugene is typical to university communities--expensive, choked. Housing has been a perpetual issue for me, a source of major instability after my divorce from my children's father. I've moved ten times in the last decade and now more than ever need a safe, clean, healthy home. There was much drama in the home buying excursion--old patterns surfaced and it became clear that there were too many gaps in our communication to undertake this thing together. My illness is invisible, rare, not socially acceptable and therefore incomprehensible to some family members. My current husband and I have made really difficult choices that have supported our children (like getting custody of his daughter and putting my son, who has autism, in private school) but that our families tend to forget in context. This latest mold event has everyone throwing up their hands in ways that are hurtful but not unexpected. They are done with our weirdness.
So I had to let it go. Burn away the feelings of shame and sadness, the hope and expectations, too. To release any attachment I had to a vision of how home was going to work here. So I can make what can be, independent, sovereign.
Sovereignty is a practice. It doesn't mean being unsupported, it means having autonomy in my choices, and self-sufficiency in my actions. Spiritual/Divine Sovereignty means I have authority in collusion with divinity and follow those promptings that come from my authentic self in relationship to spirit. In my practice of sovereignty, other people's stories about me matter less because they do not touch my core, my root, my uniqueness, my heart, my deep unflinching love. It is an imperfect practice, but one that the advent of this illness has called me back to in integrity.
You can't explain you. You can't live in the story of another, especially if it is one that hurts, shames, withholds love or limits you. You don't need their approval, their blessing, their advice. You need your own story.
Story work is one of my critical thematic tools. As a writer I believe we co-create the world with our vision. I've had characters come to meet me in life, circumstances present themselves in scene and have read enough ancient philosophy to know that this is not anomalous. It is a version of reality, one I choose. If I believe I am sovereign and in alignment with spirit, I can begin to weave stories of love and support, healing and nourishment that open my trust and allow for the gifts to emerge.
Please note: this is not to say we create our reality. I am talking about crafting ideas, patterns, reactions, visions unlimited by other humans. I am not saying that we make every bad thing that happens. I've checked in with this a lot, and spirit says its bunk. This work of living is co-creative. I didn't make my illness through negative storytelling, but there is a relationship between my story and my illness for sure, and finding the gifts in it is empowering rather than limiting. I can make my story expansive or I can contract in how I frame the work. If we were speaking in narrative terms I would say I may not be able to control the plot, but as a character I can craft my responses and trust the story. It knows more than I do.
In this waxing moon I am working intensely, daily, with story. In a guided practice this might mean doing the Guidebook story work--from the packet I uploaded last week, and I'm attaching it here again in case you missed it--deeply visioning what I do want. I tell the story in first person, present tense, using all of my senses. I open myself in ritual and ask for guidance, paying close attention to my intuition around what comes in or through. This week I might focus on one aspect of my story, like healing, reprogramming my journey through creative engagement.
Story work is often subtle in the making, but the power of your creativity is boundless and best seen in retrospect. In the wake of this transformative time my husband and I are making our own choices, ones that to others might look strange but we are not obligated to others. If my family had purchased a home we would have been hooked into their opinions. Right now we are sovereign in our decisions, we are free.
I share this as both opening and invitation, in practice and in solidarity. Sending blessings to your stories, to all you are creating. To this adventure of making in sovereignty.
PS--this new story packet was created for moon divas and then again with my undergraduate students in mind, so contains references to other activities--like the 100 things I love about myself--which can be found in the Moon Divas Guidebook.