One Simple Tool, BIG Healing

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A couple weeks ago, I recently moved to a new place. And with this #movinginthetimeofCOVID came several opportunities to pivot and make things work. I didn't have certain items such as a bed, pots & pans, or my tool bag — hammer, nails, etc... of which I found to be most needed — a phillips-head screwdriver.

You see, almost 5 years ago I went through what I call The Great Purge — selling/donating most of my furniture and belongings to prepare for life on the road. I've lived very minimally since then, and it has been truly one of the greatest seasons of my life.

This new special little home in Taos is the first place I have planted myself since 2015, and I am clear on the vision that I will continue to keep my life very simple. Still, there are things you find you "need" (in an ideal sense, not for survival) when actually living full-time in one place. And it matters to me that my home space is a cozy place that is organized, visually nourishing, and one that refills me & brings me peace.

So! I purchased a new little dresser online that required assembly. No big deal, I've built loads of things in my life, even from scratch, and this item stated that it included everything needed for assembly.

So this should be a piece of cake, yeah?

Welp, there were probably about 75 screws in total between all the panels and drawer gliders, and yep, you guessed it, NO screwdriver. And in avoiding unnecessarily traveling or going to stores in an effort to respect the quarantine orders, and in my frugality of KNOWING I had a whole bag of sweet tools in my pal's basement a couple hours away, I simply laughed and decided to let it be. For more than a couple weeks that dresser sat in parts on the floor.

I went about my life taking care of other things, and staying present with what’s really priority — my self-care, my work, you all... I'd been living out of bags for 4+ years, so what's a few more weeks?

You might be reading this thinking, why didn't you just ask to borrow one from a neighbor? I know, simple, huh? Yet, asking for help is not exactly in my wheelhouse. I'm pretty good at a lot of things... asking for help? Admittedly still learning how to do that. AND to give myself some credit, I have actually grown a lot in this area, and this piddly dresser thing just really wasn't that important — I wasn't in distress, or needing this thing to survive, so again, it could wait for me to handle it on my own.

And there it is right there. I’ll handle it on my own. The story that has equally plagued and saved my life time and again.

There's a deep, multi-faceted history here around where this pattern comes from for me. It has a lot of ties to not trusting the help that would be given to me, or that help could ever just show up for me unconditionally without request. In the past, there was always a condition around help/support, or it was used as collateral against me later on... And because I am very independent and capable, this creates a pretty lethal combination that keeps me believing I’m left to, or it's just better to do things on my own.

This is one of my ‘blessing and a curse’ type of traits.

I’m aware of the irony that lies in the work I do, and in the way I have always so selflessly offered help to others, and in the way I share my tools to support others’ healing. Yet, the asking for and even the receiving of support can still be quite challenging for me.

However, I am also aware that the way I used to give help in the past was at the expense or detriment of myself. I did it unconsciously; out of obligation, beliefs that it was my job to take care of everyone, or from a place of trying to prove myself, because I didn’t feel worthy of being loved just for being. I had to earn it, or be ‘good enough’ in the eyes of the other. Can you relate? This is a very common theme in the lives of Empaths.

Gratefully, through a lot of deep healing work, this piece has been re-balanced. I don’t give from that place anymore, and I also don’t place my value in someone else’s validation or approval of me. Anymore, I give that to myself all on my own. Ironic again, huh? ;)

For weeks now, my Dad and my step-mom, who is a lifetime seamstress, have been selflessly working tireless hours crafting, washing, packaging, and shipping out protective face masks all over the country to help during COVID-19.

They do this freely, simply to be of service.

They sweetly sent a couple masks my way, and about 2 weeks ago now, on a mail run to my P.O. Box, I had the joy of opening a package from them with a kind note about the materials of the mask, how it had been washed, etc… And as I sat in my car in the post office parking lot, I pulled out the packing material and saw there was another item bubble-wrapped in there — no note, just a slip of scrap paper with a quick heart drawn on it in my Dad’s writing style.

Perplexed at what it could be, I tore back the bubble-wrap and pulled out an old, phillips-head screwdriver with a black handle. A simple gift straight from my Dad’s own toolbox. A simple gift, that carried with it such a massive wave of love and support that I had not requested. I teared up immediately feeling my heart crack open to the experience of having a “need” met — not because I asked, or even because he offered. Simply because he listened to my goofy story about the dresser and just chose to show up and offer me the exact tool I needed from a very pure place of unconditional love.

My Dad definitely didn’t know how deeply this simple act of love would impact me. I shared with him about it later on and I cried again, and we laughed… and I sat in awe of this life and how meaningful & magical the simplest exchanges of actual unconditional love can be. And how such significant symbolism can be held in an old screwdriver. And how once again, another piece of my life has been healed by the introduction of one very simple tool.

P.S. Please message me here if you would like to order masks, or for details on making a donation to my parents’ efforts.🖤

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