The house is fairly still and quiet this morning. In the background, The Eagles are encouraging me to take it to the limit one more time, and I’m stealing a moment of calm and beauty from the frenzied pace of the last few weeks. Potential buyers will be here to look at the house in 2 hours, and if they don’t make an offer it gets listed Monday.

So many changes. The last few weeks have been head spinning, and I am finding it is impossible to not feel displaced as life is in contraction, expansion, transition, transformation.

I don’t quite belong here anymore. And yet I’m still not over there. And so I find myself in the unstructured, nebulous space of in between.

Most days I wish I could just be on the other side of things. Safely tucked into our new home in Kauai, up in that green jungle, playing 70’s music on a balmy Saturday with strong coffee and large measures of lazy. All goodbyes would be said, the chore of packing and moving done, the animals adjusted to a new home, and myself finally sinking into a new skin and pace of life.

But just like with my worst of grief over Brent’s death- when I so badly wished that I could skip forward 6 months and be through the pain, only to find hidden treasures of light and lessons of soul buried among the muddy layers of grief- I am finding that there are all sorts of quiet lights and lessons of soul tucked inside the layers of these chaotic days of change.

The light of space.

The more stuff we get rid of, the more I don’t want to be owned by stuff anymore. But to have room to live simpler, cleaner, smaller, so I have more space to expand and live life bigger.

The light of a slow loosening and letting go of attachments.

I’ve been integrating on an even deeper level that it is okay to let go of what people think. Unless it is a person who has habitually shown up with a life saver and helping hand when I’ve been floundering and going under in life, I’ve never felt so free or unconcerned about others or their perceptions, opinions, and perspectives of my journey. Or given myself so much permission to empty my life of all but the few I hold closest to me.

The light of balance.

I’ve been lopsided for a long time, my energy output not equaling my energy input. I’ve been trying to right that after years of over-giving and finally realizing- I am not the emotional custodian of other people’s spaces. Progress has been made in this area of my life, but I still see a time soon coming where saying “no” becomes my default setting, so I have the space to finally, fully, freely say “yes” to something in me.

The light of change. The light of capability. The light of release.

The light of deconstruction- dozens of other lights in dozens of other ways. Too many to write about for today except to say the biggest light that is shining brighter and brighter, a lighthouse in this messy transformation, is the light of reinvention.

I was at a class the other night surrounded by other therapists in the trauma community, faces I’ve seen and known for years. We were going around the room introducing ourselves, and when it got to me I said, My name is BethAnne Kapansky Wright, I’m a psychologist in private practice for two more months. Then I’m moving to Kauai, and I’m going to reinvent myself.

You’ve never met a more supportive group than a room of trauma therapists, so these words were met with warm smiles, surprise, and kindness.

Somebody asked me- what will you do when you get there?

I have no idea, I said. E-therapy with a small handful of clients, but other than that? I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out.

Saying these words, looking back over my shoulder at all it’s taken to get to this point, finding new resolve to keep going and releasing the reigns-

I have never felt so free.