On Grounded

I grew up in a quite liberal family. My parents never gave us a curfew but instead consistently reinforced their confidence in us to make the right decisions. At the age of 16, I would say I lived up to their expectations most of the time and definitely was always the most furious at myself when I didn’t. I don’t recall ever being grounded.

Fast forward 20 years and the decisions that are currently before me. Tomorrow, there will no longer be international flights to/from Kenya. And for the first time in my adult life, the freedom to choose my location is gone. I’m grounded.

So, I might be enjoying this…

but inside exists restless waters. There are all of the what if’s, no better, no worse than any other’s what if’s. I’m certain we would have a number of them in common. Equal and present questions and worries that seep in at various points of the day. Annoying and normal, annoyingly normal, normally annoying.

Then there is the addiction. I’m face-to-face with it in a true confrontation and going cold turkey. The thing about addiction, it’s much more than a habit. It’s a way of being, a part of my identity, a pattern of thought and actions that have been slowly woven together over years. To form this addiction I relied heavily on my privilege — USA passport, middle-class upbringing, early opportunities to travel and see what the world had to offer. What’s tricky here is how proudly I disguise my cravings to discover the next place and successfully manage to cover all the shit underneath.

Well, we are a few months into 2020 and seems like a high level of shit. It’s time to dig into it. yuks. Because, come on… what cover-up am I running that I’d prioritize booking flights and counting points over building the life I 100% want for myself? That’s a deep level of self-doubt people. Time to be addressed.

So this is loving yourself.

After plenty of time healing my upper chakras time and again, I’m actually addressing the root. I’m grounded. And what a beautiful place to be.