publisher’s pageBegging for ChangeI’m not holding out a can, but ra<strong>the</strong>r a “can-do”.My kids are counting on it.I know I’ve touched on thistopic before, but lately I’m feelinglike a flower that’s justopened up to drink in <strong>the</strong>Spring’s warming rays afterbeing buried in <strong>the</strong> cold dirt allwinter. Metaphoricallyspeaking, I’m alive again. But,it didn’t happen over night andit would have NEVERhappened if I had let my ownpesky fears swallow me whole.Haven Can WaitRecently, I had decided to rent out my home.After fifteen years toge<strong>the</strong>r, my home hasseen <strong>the</strong> good, <strong>the</strong> bad and <strong>the</strong> ugly. It’s apart of me somehow, and I can’t help butwonder if it’s “feeling <strong>the</strong> pain” along withme. Weird, I’ve moved back home withMom. Yes, ano<strong>the</strong>r long story. Suffice it tosay, I am letting go of my safe-haven. Nowdon’t get me wrong, I don’t think you getmuch safer than being back with Mom. Oneside of me feels brave and strong again, butmy better half is asking me, “Oh gosh, whyam I even doing this?”Up until recently, I was white-knuckledabout <strong>the</strong> whole ‘letting go’ thing, but nolonger can I hold on tight to things justbecause <strong>the</strong>y’re comfortable, easy or soothingor just because in some strange way, <strong>the</strong>ydefine me…right? The self-made temporary“heaven” (and yes, haven) I carved out forMommy and Savannah6 I <strong>PhillyFIT</strong>May/June I 267-767-4205 I www.phillyfit.com
Nearly everyone who visited would remark not how, "aes<strong>the</strong>ticallyamazing <strong>the</strong> home was" (because it wasn’t, it really was, and is,just sort of common) but how, "amazing <strong>the</strong> feeling of love andlife was in <strong>the</strong> home." Sometimes it’s all about <strong>the</strong> things you can’tsee with <strong>the</strong> naked eye that truly mater. PRIDE riddled me, and Ithink it may have carried over into o<strong>the</strong>r aspects of my life too, uhum…<strong>PhillyFIT</strong>. <strong>PhillyFIT</strong> was born here, too. Ano<strong>the</strong>r huge plusto <strong>the</strong> home we now call 868 (<strong>the</strong> house number).Truth be told, I flirted with <strong>the</strong> idea of even selling my homerecently, after <strong>the</strong> first disastrous tenants were evicted within sixmonths. But after twenty showings, many turned down mortgageapplications and a few ‘below sea-level’ offers, I totally and completelywoke up!my family and for me commenced with a little, shoebox-sized,unlived in, broken down home some fifteen years ago that no onein his or her right mind would have purchased. That is, but me.Now though, it just feels like it’s time to change things up a bit.The shoebox, which was slowly put back toge<strong>the</strong>r by me and mykids, is now tattered somehow to us, and my inner soul is on aserious quest.The memories and <strong>the</strong> love that poured out of <strong>the</strong> walls in myhome are indescribable. It was an empty house for over a decadebefore I bought it and it was pretty raw and gloomy. It didn’t evenhave a two-twenty line for an electric dryer. Think a no-frills,never updated box with ancient and even broken windows, rottedoutseals, original metal kitchen cabinets and a tiny square forcounter space. But at <strong>the</strong> time, I closed one eye and held mybreath <strong>the</strong> day I bought it because <strong>the</strong> vision in my mind was sovivid and intense, and beautiful! I could see it and feel it. It wascalling my name as I tried to walk away. It spoke to me like a littlepound puppy. I knew it was mine as soon as I opened <strong>the</strong> creakyfront door, but more so once I looked out <strong>the</strong> back door. Thegrassy, near acre yard had promise of kids and pets runningaround, screaming and barking with delight and plenty of privacy,which is something that I desperately craved and needed even atthat time of my life. Let’s say I’ve battled more than one curveball over <strong>the</strong> years.One paycheck at time, one bonus at a time, each window gotreplaced, one wall knocked out, each wall painted. For whatseemed like an eternity, each dollar was earmarked for a DIY projectof some sort. Over time, it morphed into a respectable crib –complete with custom skylights, a pool, deck, fireplace, Jacuzzi,and more. But it wasn’t so much about <strong>the</strong> objects we put in <strong>the</strong>home. It was more about <strong>the</strong> feeling of being toge<strong>the</strong>r in it; <strong>the</strong>memories—both good and bad — made each passing day.Happiness and toge<strong>the</strong>rness, two words that really work for me.And when I say twenty, yes, twenty kids at a time sleeping over,<strong>the</strong>re were many (happy) sleepless nights here.No one loved <strong>the</strong> home? I thought EVERYONE did? No oneappeared to be feeling <strong>the</strong> love here <strong>the</strong> way my family once did?How could it be? Our house was totally empty; I was told it would“show better” this way. Huh? My poor realtors think I’m totallynuts! I’m sure of it— what a wishy-washy blonde I’ve been,because as of today, I took it off <strong>the</strong> market and reclaimed it formyself (and my entire world actually) again! NO WAY, I am notgetting rid of <strong>the</strong> one thing that I can honestly say is <strong>the</strong> root of myfamily’s soul, our home! The decision was made, accompanied byfeelings of relief, excitement, and utter panic! Darion, my fifteenyear-old,love bug, and I went on a bargain furniture-shoppingrampage and put it all back toge<strong>the</strong>r in one day! Shazam! We had<strong>the</strong> sales people at Raymore and Flanagan on <strong>the</strong>ir knees and Itaught Darion <strong>the</strong> fine art of negotiation (grin).I’m a chicken, or brilliant, but I knew in <strong>the</strong> bottom of my gut, in<strong>the</strong> deepest of my soul, I just couldn't let go of EVERTHING; thiswas one thing I needed to keep. Does having to walk away from arelationship mean walking away from everything you built beforethat relationship even began? Hell no! Yep, I am rebuilding myhome and filling it back up with love. For a nano second I worriedabout <strong>the</strong> realtor’s thoughts of me, but I don’t really care if I’veleft <strong>the</strong>m scratching <strong>the</strong>ir heads <strong>the</strong> more I think about it. The lessonlearned was just too big to be worrying about anything at thispoint. And quite honestly, those folks were part of my journey andawakening, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y know it, or even care. Subsidiary lessonlearned – let go of <strong>the</strong> fears that you can’t really control Jami(worrying about letting o<strong>the</strong>rs down) when in reality, <strong>the</strong>y were letdown for a momentary minute, and replaced me with ano<strong>the</strong>reager-to-sell customer.Change to ChargeI am emotionally charged and believe it or not, I am mentally andphysically realizing this isn’t just some emotional panic attack.It’s my life, my love and my children’s roots, and it matters. Infact, we really haven’t lost that much in <strong>the</strong> big picture anyway!We have managed to forgive and still love and remain friends withthose in our past, who are no longer part of our inner family. It’strue; life is <strong>the</strong> thing that happens when you’re busy making plans.I was so focused on a solid, smart plan of re-building a life thatonce sort of happened and guided me away from moving forward.May/June I 267-767-4205 I www.phillyfit.com <strong>PhillyFIT</strong> I 7
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