the bubble woman and the moon people do extreme home makeover
One time Rex allowed Badger right up on his front porch. And she silently exploded with happiness.
One of my favourite things to do in the shower each morning (ahem), is to create a safe and loving place energetic bubble around myself. My bubble reminds me of my edges – of where I end and you begin. Its where I get to think and feel in conscious and purposeful ways, that are true to me. Most of the time. When I remember.
[nb: I share this practice on Befriend your Mind].
Living inside this bubble is a kind and intentional way of looking after myself.
Because for years I lived in an abandoned crack house.
I left the door wide open and everyone was welcome. There was a sign out front: ‘Damaged? Addicted? Sad? Come on in! Leave the detritus of your life all over the floor, and stay as long as you want’.
Living in the crack house, meant living with no edges; the boundaries between me and you were so porous I lived on the bathroom floor, shooting up on our combined pain.
Because being connected to everybody else’s sadness, kept me alive. My cheating ex-husband, the untimely death of Mum, the career that was all kinds of wrong for me, my bastard body, the infelicitous men – these stories were all so integral to me, I didn’t know who I would be without them.
I believed The Happy People were probably delusional, certainly irritating. And for years I measured the depth of someone’s character by their suffering. Sad people had all the best clothes. And a better soundtrack.
My deepest work has been an Extreme Home Makeover: Crack House to Soul House.
And even though I’ve been living here in the bubblicious Soul House for years, even with the clarity and peace of loving edges – I still feel that old pull to invite other people’s stuff in.
These days, the process to untangle myself is a squillion times easier with the perspective of my lovely friend and coach Elle Jaye. And she totally woke me up recently, by introducing me to Melody Ross‘ bloody genius idea of The Moon People.
Because this is what I know about my Soul House: no one comes in, this is where I get to live. Inside is the unconditional love I have for myself. Its safe, kind, and judgement-free.
Ash and Rex and Badger get to come right up to the door. My dearest trusted hide-a-body friends are allowed in the front garden. Outside the gate, I invite the people I adore and admire and who’s presence feels like an expansion. In my street, I permit access to the people who I have an real affinity with. Others are allowed as close as the outlying suburbs.
And then there are The Moon People.
Because as I get to know you, you are going to show me who you are, and I am just going to believe you.
So I don’t require you to change one tiny bit – you get to do and say and be exactly who you are. And no matter what you do, I’m not going to make it mean anything that would cause me not to love me.
I am just going to live here, in my Soul House Bubble, taking care of me.
And I might choose to put some boundaries around our relationship from time to time, or forever. This is what I do to look after me. Because I am responsible for loving me.
Sometimes that means my street is open to you. Sometimes that means you get to live on the moon.
Are there people squatting in your living room? Is there someone in your kitchen who should really be living on the moon?
Hello, I'm Sas Petherick. I'm a self-doubt researcher, coach and podcaster who helps thinking humans transcend self-doubt. If you'd like to receive these posts in your inbox please subscribe here (with bonus info and first notice of opportunities to work with me). PS: I totally ♥ Instagram - join me there?