Learning to Surrender, Again — Honoring What I Need, Nova Scotia, Canada
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
Dear diary, it is Monday, August 17. I am in a small cabin on a farm in New Brunswick, Canada, not far from the border of Maine. In a few days I will cross the border and slowly get back home.
Yes, I am jumping a bit forward, but I will make sure to fill in the gap in my travel shortly. I just had to sit down and write what is going on in my heart. It is so overwhelming right now inside my little body and soul.
I fell apart!
After so many weeks of extreme weather challenges and not finding simple accommodations, I broke.
The last straw was a few days ago when I was happy I finally found a campground to stay and take a shower, and I could not even do that. The campground and the shower were so neglected that even if you paid me, I would not stay there. I ran as fast as I could.
This time around, between my health challenges and the extreme weather pattern, I got to a point where I totally deflated. The extreme fatigue drained every bit of my happy self. Even nature, which is always a source of renewal, did not penetrate the heavy feeling in my spirit.
Again, I found myself at a point when surrender feels like the only way back to myself.
This time, I embrace the universe’s teaching as I honor and surrender to what I need, even when it means letting go of what I want.
Again and again, the teaching from the open road comes down to two main ideas: the power of letting go and the raw acceptance of what is in front of me.
As I type each letter, I can still feel the struggle between the two parts inside me: the “want” and the “need.”
While the “want” leads me toward happy and exciting roads, the “need” creates an overwhelming fear of what is next for me.
Right now, everything looks so overwhelming that I know if I want to keep my happy heart, I need to adopt the system I used when I was a volunteer ambulance driver.
For a long time, every call filled me with anxiety. Eventually, I realized that if I wanted to continue doing something I loved, I had to change the way I approached it.
I began breaking every call into tiny steps. Until I finished one step, I would not allow myself to think about the next one.
That simple shift changed everything.
And right now, I know I need to do the same.
One tiny step at a time. I do not need to figure out what comes after it until I finish the step in front of me.
The frustrating part is that I know worrying about what is ahead is a waste of the little energy I have left. There is no way for me to know what comes next. And yet, knowing that does not stop me from being scared.
Even though traveling through Nova Scotia did not go as planned, I will forever cherish my night at Meat Cove as one of the magical moments of my journey.
I fell asleep with my trunk open as darkness settled over the ocean, a gentle breeze cooling me off. My senses were filled with the night—the salty smell of the ocean drifting in from the horizon and the sound of the waves crashing beneath me, creating the most beautiful music.
I will leave you with a short clip that I sent to my Power Girls that night.
My Power Girls, who are always there for me like a solid rock: Aimee, Eva Marie, Kim Lori, Mel, Lauren, Wendy, Shari, and Amy.
I love you, and I am humbled by your love and support.
So yes, I fell apart. But I am okay. I found the glue to start putting my broken pieces back together. Turns out, it is made of rest, sleep, showers, good friends and doing nothing :)
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