The Tiny House
I woke up this morning like I do most mornings now: with two sweet Mini Labradoodles assailing my face with kisses and relentless pawing for more and more belly and ear rubs. My morning routine has changed substantially over the past several months – first with my move out of my family’s home into a very small, but cozy, rental home, and second with my retirement from Eon.
But unlike most mornings, as I was lazily making the four steps from my bedroom into the rest of the house (literally, the bathroom, family room, dining room, and kitchen are all right there), it dawned on me that I’ve been in the Tiny House for over six months now. And in that moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Gratitude for my own space, gratitude for my continuing spiritual journey and growth, and gratitude for the peace I’m finally allowing myself to settle into.
When I initially moved out of our family home and into the Tiny House at the end of December, my personal life was fractured, and I was filled with guilt and doubt. Guilt because I knew this meant my children would never again have the luxury of a single family home or their two parents living together under one roof. And doubt because that’s all I had felt for the past several years about my decision to choose myself and pursue true happiness.
The last six months in this cozy little dwelling have been the most beautiful, messy, and painful months of my life. When I look back on the emotions I have allowed myself to feel and encounter, I’m filled with not only gratitude, but also with pride.
For most of my life I have compartmentalized my feelings and my needs so that I could anticipate and meet the needs of the people in my life. The need to please at all costs stems from a childhood filled with lots of love, but also lots of chaos. Chaos that the little girl I was did not know how to process. And so, like most people in childhood, I learned coping mechanisms that have stayed with me my whole life. I taught myself behaviors that would control my role in the chaos and that would help me to feel safe within my family dynamic.
This role that I assumed as a child was both positive and negative. It became the underlying driver of my scholastic and career success – the need to have near perfect grades, the desire to be the best at anything I did, the grit and perseverance to become a successful business leader, and, most recently, co-leading a healthcare technology company that started as an idea and grew over eight years to be a best-in-class technology company that quite literally saves patients’ lives.
But this role I assumed as a young girl that led to so many outward successes and accomplishments is the same role that gave me a splintered sense of self. Because I was desperately trying to please everyone, to be the peacemaker, and to not create any of my own waves that would result in disappointment from my parents, I yielded my wants and desires and just did what I was expected to do. I became a chameleon that could easily fit into any situation. I liked whatever the person next to me liked. I adapted and reined-in chaos. I didn’t upset the apple cart; I steadied it. I was a pleaser.
I got good grades. I went to college. I got a job. I met a man. I married the man. We quickly had two kids. I continued to climb the corporate ladder. I kept the house clean and organized. I made sure our kids were involved in all the right things. I threw memorable social events and parties. And then, I sacrificed memories with family and friends to build a business. I worked 80 hours a week to prove I was valuable. I did and did and did and did…to the point of exhaustion. I was no longer a human being…I was a human doing. So much so, that I nearly broke in December of 2019, which then led to the beginning of my self-awareness and spiritual journey in early 2020.
I’ll never forget how in my early thirties, one of my best girlfriends from college who was recently married, told me she didn’t want kids and wasn’t going to have any. I was floored. “But ...doesn't everyone get married and have kids?” I asked her. I was so programmed that the train of life just went forward without much consideration that I never stopped to consider that the train tracks might diverge or even take willful turns. I had spent so much of my life doing what I thought I was supposed to do, moving forward, that I never stopped and asked myself, “What do I REALLY want to do, and who am I REALLY?”
So six months later, after making the decision to move out of our family home and to leave a company that was like a third child to me, I’m sitting here in the Tiny House, contemplating this very question. Not in a manic or obsessive way, but in a way that is healthy and FEELS right to me. I meditate (a lot). I meet with my spiritual mentors regularly. I read. I walk my dogs (a lot!). I’m present with my kids (for the first time perhaps ever). And I write. I write A LOT.
So while I still don’t know the answer to who I am or what I want to do, I’m listening. I’m open. I’m present. I’m free to find out. I no longer feel the obligations that used to drive my actions, my values, my worth. My north star now is me, and I know through me, anything is possible.
