Treehouse

When you were a kid, did you have a place? A place you could escape? A place you could be free to explore who you really were? Mine was on the roof just outside the window of my bedroom. I would sneak out in the evenings after my parents thought I went to bed. Sometimes a friend made it out of their house and came over to keep me company; sometimes those friends were boys and we would kiss and make plans to break rules. Usually though it was just me. I would sit and look out at the tree line, the hammock and the tire swing. I would think “Oh, to be young again and play on the tire swing.” Ha ha, mind you, I was about 16 at the time.

Emotions ran rampant in those days, but it was different then how they run rampant now, as a pre menopausal woman. Kristen the teenager was sad, but she was eager as well, restless and ready to spill her tears, clean up, and get back to breaking rules. Now, at 50, I am setting rules (for my own 16 year old none-the-less) and my emotions are funny things. Layered and lacquered I have felt their spectrum repeatedly through the years, and have learned how to lay aside those that threaten my normal goings on. Usually wine would help with the squelching - relax and unwind and forget how you feel.

Sobriety has been a gift, and the freedom and peace it has brought is unmatched. I am so glad to no longer be turning my brain to mush on purpose. I love to wake up and not feel an ounce of sluggishness or regret. I have enjoyed music and vacations and people in a fresh and expanding way. Wine will never satisfy me as it used to - it just won’t. And with that realization, I am left at 5 o’clock, and really every o’clock of the day, to hang with my emotions instead of forgetting them. In these new dealings, I must decide one of two things: A) Do I settle them down? Not with wine, but with breathing and exercise and hobbies? Or, B.) Do I come up with an action plan? Are they emotions I unleash to trigger change?

Emotions aren’t random; they are born from deep wells inside us that spring faith and truth, bubbling up because the fiery world around us is alive, and we must choose how to be alive in it. We decide what we do with our emotions. We decide if we ignore or engage. A or B?

Not always a clear choice, and often a scary one - we need time to ponder. Today, I found the perfect place to sit and ponder, and it brings me back to the roof of that teenage house. It’s a garage apartment we call the treehouse. On one side of the room, the blinds open up to magnolia leaves and swaying moss hanging from a live oak. On the side above the the desk I am typing on, I look directly at my daughters upstairs bedroom window. It leads to a slanted roof, not as safe as the one I used to climb out onto, but I suppose she could be breaking the rules and sliding open her window at night. Part of me hopes she is.

We all need that spot to take a minute, take a minute to lay out our emotions as best we can, and try to identify the soothable ones, and the actionable ones. Sometimes we may need to return to our treehouse on the daily until we decide. Whatever we do there, it is ours. It is our sacred space and our precious time, not to be subdued by wine or drugs or whatever rotgut we think helps. I urge each of us to go carve out that niche away from the dogs and the kids and the family. If you can’t find a space, you are welcome to come hang with me at mine. I like the idea of having friends sneak out and join me. We can decide if we want to break the rules together.