The trouble with being a "transitions consultant" (which I billed myself as for a while) is that sooner or later one's own life goes through transitions.
The trouble with being a "grief counselor" (which was another of my professional titles) is that sooner or later one has one's own losses to grieve.
And the trouble with almost any claim of professional capacity is that sooner or later one is called upon to use that capacity in one's personal life.
This is what has happened to me-- again, really! I mean, not for the first time am I "going through a life transition" or "grieving a loss." I've had my share of those.
But this time is different. I have never been foreclosed on before.
In our current economic "climate," as we like to put it, I am far from alone. I know that there are millions of people out there who are experiencing foreclosure. But my guess is that each of us find only cold comfort in knowing that there are more out there "just like us."
Because, truly, being foreclosed on is one of those life-experiences that is experienced as a singular, personal event. It has minimal statistical relevance to those who are going through it; statistics are for those who read about us in the news or hear about economic trends on the radio. None of us live our lives as a statistic. Each of us has our own experience.
In this blog, I want to share mine. I want to share what it has been like for me to go through foreclosure.
I don't know-- and I can't know, really-- whether what I've experienced is like what anyone else has. But I know that writing about what I have and am experiencing helps me. In other words, my goal is modest: I want to use this space to record and work through what I am going through. It is a space for reflection, a way of listening to myself.
Yet I also hope it will connect with others, that there will be some resonance in their lives with what I write-- maybe not a "harmony," but a vibration, an interaction, a response. I am seeking to overcome an insularity, to mitigate the isolation I feel, to get over the sense I sometimes carry that I have been unfairly singled out, and punished.
I know those feelings are the names of my pain. And I seek from this writing some comfort, some holding in my hurting, some embrace.
So this is an invitation: Join me in the "clearing" of this blog, and let's share our stories of change, transition, loss, grief-- and the healing that comes simply from telling our own stories.
I invite your response! It would help me to know that someone is out there, reading...
