Monkle Shane

I have an uncle, his name is Shane, for a short while he was an ordained monk. This obviously means he became my Monkle Shane.

I was married to a good man but that path of life was not the path I was supposed to be on. I was scared. So, naturally, I called my Monkle Shane.

In the grocery store, in the aisle that has the Funyons on the end rack, Monkle Shane gave me two questions to consider:

1) Do I like my circumstances?

2) Do I like who I am being?

I concluded that I did feel like I was being the best version of myself I could be, so it left me to examine my circumstances. I did not like my circumstances. 

My circumstances were perfect on paper, a beautiful house, super cute dogs, a handsome, smart, funny husband who I loved, a sweet stepson, amazing in-laws, and a  loving "sister-mom" who supported my role as a stepmom to her son. 

So why was I miserable? This was everything I was supposed to have, everything that should make someone happy. 

I didn't trust my intuition. I ignored the feeling that this is right and perfect, but for someone else, it was not the life I was supposed to be living.  It was a beautiful life, full of stargazer lilies in the yard and a placenta fertilized fir tree left by the previous owners in the back; lining the yard with a little folklore to give a laugh. 

I miss that house, I miss those people, I miss the love and the laughter. 

I am alone, now. I sit in a small bungalow, cross-legged with my computer, my bulldog snoring by my side on a rainbow fringe lined blanket that clashes with the 80s colored faded baroque style rug on my floor, party lights adorning most walls. Tokens of life from my past sit on shelves and hang on walls around me. I miss it, but those circumstances were not for me in this lifetime.