A love letter to my few and faithful followers as we transition to the Momune…
‘If love could prevent pain, I’d never have suffered.’ -Glennon Doyle Melton
I have always been loved. My safety net is made of warm hugs.
I have an amazing family of kind, funny, brilliant, intuitive people. My parents were always there, both physically and emotionally. My sister can basically read my mind. Either of my little brothers will drop everything and help, any time I ask. Some of my friends have known me for 20+ years and yet still pick up the phone any time I call (which isn’t often, I’m bad at calling). My sponsor knows all the things, even the absolute worst most awful demoralizing moments from my past. And if for some reason none of them is available, all I have to do is drag my ass to a meeting and dump my guts out on the floor for the sober strangers.
And yet, over and again throughout life I chose a path of suffering. I pick up another drink. Get into another car. Stuff the feels a little deeper and numb out. Ignore my intuition and build the walls a little higher.
Not. This. Fucking. Time.
Once I was able to wade through the hurt and the fear and the shock around the end of my marriage, one of my first purposeful thoughts was, ‘I need to take care of myself. I need my people.’ I was caught in a shit storm and I needed to seek shelter.
Of course the usual suspects emerged and many tear-choked conversations were had. I started hitting the trails hard in any spare moments I had. I started writing again, sometimes about easy things like beautiful adventures, and sometimes about the hard stuff. I’ve been saying ‘YES’ a lot more when new opportunities present themselves. And I’ve been paying attention to the signs and following up, which has led to more beautiful adventures, and new friends, and reconnecting with old ones, and rediscovering the things that make me, Me.
At some point, an idea emerged. I called it the ‘momune’. At first it was a joke. ‘All the pissed off, hurt women can go live together and support each other, no dudes allowed!’ But it quickly morphed into something good and life-affirming. Something I started to want.
In my head it looked like a tidy farm with an assortment of tiny homes, arrayed around a big cozy farm house with a wrap-around porch that housed the library and the big kitchen and the gathering space. Almost like a miniature neighborhood with a community center. The surrounding hillsides were covered in thick forest, and not too distant mountains peeked over the tops of the hills. There was a stream nearby. And there were children and animals and growing things everywhere. It was a safe, healing place where women and their people could come and live and learn and grow.
It became my imaginary happy place.
I was talking about blogging with a friend recently and mentioned the momune. And then I laughed (because that’s what I do to protect myself from the potential judgement that’s coming after I share my soul), and said, ‘maybe it’s not a place yet, but maybe I should build it online for now.’
Instead of shrugging or laughing along, she replied something to the effect of, ‘Definitely! Why not?!’
It was one of those moments. One of those paths to choose where I could either laugh and move on to another topic, or say YES! Ok. That’s a thing I want. And that’s a thing I’m physically capable of doing. Let’s give it a fucking shot!
And so, if you’re still reading this, thank you!! And please join me over at my new site! I hereby declare that the Momune is a thing and it exists. And I’m calling all nature loving, Truth telling, mindful, adventure seeking, simple living, life affirming, open-minded, open-hearted, bad-ass humans to come along! Let’s see where we’ll take this and what will come of it if we play along with the universe for awhile.