Crushing Societal Norms & Cultivating Trust in Spirit
Here’s the truth : I have moved back in with my parents at the tender age of 39 years old. Even though it's a small stepping stone to the next unfolding of my life, this can still go one of two ways - I could a) Allow for societal dogmas to get the better of me and wince at the position I am in OR b) Say fuck it and continue to work toward my purpose. I’ve already allowed societal pressures to get the better of me once in my life, that’s exactly how I ended up here. Although I shy away from labeling anything 'good' or 'bad', trying to fit into a life not intended for me has lead me to this exact point on the map of life. For that I have no regrets, but I do still have a story to tell. Allow me to explain.
Back around 2013, I was at a standstill in life. I had just gotten back from a depressing situation in Costa Rica where I had thought I was going to live out the rest of my life. I was broke, jobless, homeless, fucking exhausted. Drinking was once again at an all time high, ambly numbing and distracting myself from the world I had created around me, or lack thereof. Luckily, I had a family member who was running a successful small business at the time of my return and needed help. I started as a part time employee, but in no time, I was living the proverbial Monday - Friday / 9 - 5 dream. I was making decent money, building professional relationships and constructing connections in all types of fields. You’d see me schmoozing at some of the most highly publicized events in Calgary. Of course, still drinking. Not enough to have it affect my work just yet, but enough to make my nights out at these events all the more bearable. You couldn’t turn your head without someone placing a drink in your hand, a number in your phone. Was I happy? I wasn’t not happy, but I certainly wasn’t fulfilled. A nagging feeling that I was living someone else's life other than my own.
If you had to place a label on me, 'Black Sheep' of the Black Family would fit quite nicely. I never followed the curvature of what's deemed ‘normal’ by society standards. I didn't go to University straight out of high school. I didn't get married or have kids. I didn't pine for the static white picket fence life. So finally having settled in this new role of ‘happy worker’, I thought perhaps this was the time to ‘grow up’ and begin to follow a semblance of what grown ups do, as living the other way hadn’t seemed to work out for me all that well so far - or had it..? (Oh what I couldn’t see then that I can see now. One of the reasons I drank was b/c I thought something was wrong with me for not wanting to fit into this societal mold). According to what I absorbed growing up, when one has a secure/steady job with reliable income, the next logical step is to buy property. You become a meaningful part of society. Besides getting married, having kids, and working until you retire at a job you hate, buying property is one of those ‘adult things’ I kept hearing about. At the time, I wanted all those things too - or so I thought. Truthfully I had never actually taken the time to sit back and think about any of this. I had no other real direction and so I went through the motions, believing this was next best thing I could do. Was I happy now??
At first, things were great - they generally are when you’re ignorant to the world around you. Although I bought my condo in the height of the economic boom in Alberta, I certainly couldn't have predicted the bubble bursting only a year later, and again a few years after that. And then of course the repercussions of COVID was like turd icing on a piece of shit cake. Admittingly though, in the 7 years I owned my condo, it became my lifeline in so many ways. I could hide there and no one would know what destructive performances I was devouring behind closed doors. My secrets were safe within the walls I had built. 7 years I had lived in my seclusion, my own world. I rarely had people over, opting to be alone with my thoughts, booze, men, whatever. Things got exceptionally worse the summer of 2017 when it all started to unravel like a decade old wool sweater, washed too many times in the sink of a rotting soul. If you’ve followed me for a while, you know this is where drinking takes over my life completely, like a bat straight outta hell.
I remember a particular special weekend that summer, right in the middle of the tornado that was my life. I believe it was the start of Stampede and a gf and I were heading out on that first Thursday night. We partied and stayed up almost all night, drowning with heaps of alcohol the nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me of the flight I had to catch the next morning. As you can imagine I missed my flight, paid $400 to hop on the next one, and proceeded to continuously drink heavily until the Sunday flight back home. The state of my shaky soul and filthy condo were about the same that Sunday. Piles of dirty clothes littered the floor. Days old food stuck to plates like hyenas to a kill. Garbage surrounded my home and my heart. My dignity splayed along with it. That was the night I went to my first and only meeting, before retreating back to my sanctuary.
FFW to 2019. I had quit drinking about a year and a half up this point. The fog was beginning to lift and I was starting to see my life from within a new, clearer lens. No longer was I satiated with a 9-5. No longer was I content with city life. No longer was I hypnotized by societal norms. I had shaken the cobwebs clear from my mind and was ready to step back into the guise of the Black Sheep I knew so well. This was around the time I just went for it and quit the safety of my job, without any real knowing of the next steps. Also around this time was the realization that I no longer wanted to live in Calgary, and how that was going to look. The initial thought was to head to the US for school then make my way up to the island. That obviously didn’t work out, but it certainly got the wheels turning. The one tangible thing holding me back and attached to Calgary was this condo that I owned.
The first time I placed it on the market was August 2019. Cocky as I was, even in a down economy, I positioned it far too high. From the time I had purchased my condo until I placed it up for sale the city had approved, I don’t even know, thousands of units to hit the market. Most were offering gyms, concierge, underground parking, etc, all to my non-existent offerings. The Calgary condo market had gotten a face lift and I was left with my sagging, bags under the eyes unit. It was a shitty place to be in, even more so as the months surged on with nothing but empty words of encouragement. I had to really sit with and begin to look at my relationship with money. How much was I willing to lose? Was it mine to lose in the first place? And my connection to what the condo represented to me. Am I really ready to let go energetically? That was of course the BIG one.
COVID hit and the market really took a plunge. Rumours continue to swirl that it’s going to take at least 5 years before there's even a consideration of a real estate market turnaround. 5000 units are said to hit the Calgary skyline in 2021. WTF was I going to do with my 426sq ft condo? I couldn’t see a way out. I kept lowering the price. I had reiki sessions performed multiple times to move the stagnant energy. I had to take a DEEP fucking look at my relationship to this condo. In one particular reiki session with a good friend, she asked me if there was anything holding me back from selling, and I had a major aha moment - I realized that this condo was the last piece of the puzzle that tethered me to Calgary. It was the last piece of my past to release before I could break free. Now that, that was a tough thing to realize. Was I actually ready to let go? The answer was finally yes.
I remember seeing a medium this summer who told me this about selling, “Spirit is telling me you need to pack boxes. If you are serious about selling, you need to pack boxes.” So I half-assed and purged a few things, thinking that would be enough. It wasn’t. Months still went by and I was no closer to selling. By the end of August this year, I was ready to call it all quits. I had just gotten a letter of acceptance into school and needed to give it my full attention. I decided the next best option was to rent out my condo. I placed an add and within a week had multiple showings. One woman in particular stood out. She needed my place short term and said the condo was exactly what she was looking for. GREAT. She would move in until January so I could begin my first semester of school in peace at my parents. My tenant moved in September 15th. I had packed up about half of my belongings to make room for hers. Within a week of the move and taking my condo of the selling market, I received a call from my realtor. “You’re never going to believe this,” she said. I didn’t.
An offer was made mid-summer. The only one on the place. It was laughable and I sent them on their way. Well, they came back, and with a much better offer this time. Still though, not enough for me to consider given all the payouts I needed to make on the sale. Back and forth we went for a week, and finally decided upon an amount. I sold my condo in a down economy in the middle of covid in a saturated market. You tell me how this happened. Remember the words of wisdom the medium told me? Ya, fuck.
So here I sit, in a make shift office at my parent's place, writing this post. The purpose is to relay the power of intention and spirit. The purpose is to speak to my intense disinterest to following the disparaging societal 'advice' we absorbed growing up. Cultivate your trust in spirit, source, that attitude that lives inside you that no one else can touch. The invisible connection I had to this condo, to this last part of my old life was so powerful. So powerful until I was ready to see it, acknowledge it, thank it and finally pack the boxes.