Day 182: One Foot In, One Foot Out

This morning, I was trying to open the screen door of the motorhome while balancing a heavy container in my arms.

As I stood there awkwardly juggling way too much at once, I started thinking about the lesson from Change One Thing this morning.

The idea was simple:

We have the opportunity to reinvent ourselves every day.

That thought landed differently than it usually does because right now, I am reinventing several things in my life.

One of them is this motorhome.

For the past couple of years, it has been my getaway place. At first, I came for weekends, then long weekends, then a week at a time and then every other week.

Over time, I started leaving more things here that I could live without at home.

But something interesting occurred to me this morning.

I've never cooked here. I've always brought food from home. Being plant-based for 36 years, I'm good at traveling with food already prepared.

I was staying here but I wasn't living here.

It looked like commitment from the outside. But inside, I still had one foot out the door.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how often we do this in other areas of our lives.

We start a business but hesitate to fully put ourselves out there.

We create the product but delay launching it.

We get right to the edge of the next step and then find reasons to wait.

We enter relationships but keep a small part of ourselves protected.

We say we want change while quietly leaving ourselves an escape route back to the familiar.

Most of the time, we don't even realize we're doing it.

It feels practical, responsible, safe.

But underneath it is often something else.

Fear.

Not because we don't want the thing. We do.

But because fully committing means allowing ourselves to be changed by the experience.

And that's vulnerable.

It goes back to the lesson in Change One Thing. I have the freedom to refine and reinvent myself daily.

But will we use that freedom?

Or is there a fear that keeps us feeling like it's safer to stay the same?

Well, today, I am unpacking half of a cargo trailer of plastic containers that show I am fully committed to this motorhome actually living up to its name and being a home.

My stuff, the dog's toys. The little things that make a place feel like home.

And as I sort through it all, it strikes me that this is exactly how growth works.

We try things. We experiment. We bring new ideas, habits, relationships, and possibilities into our lives. Then we discover what fits and what doesn't.

That's what living in the contrast is all about. The contrast helps us to refine our true desires.

So when we choose, it's not from judgment.

It's using what we feel as information.

It helps us to practice refinement.

It's self-discovery.

I'll happily unpack little knick-knacky things that say this is me. Inside and out, not just extra patio furniture.

It will take me a few days to go through all the stuff I brought, see what works in this space and what doesn't.

Just like in life.

It's ok to bring something into your life, give it a shot to see how it fits, and then let it go if it isn't as good of a fit as you thought it would be.

There is no judgment. It's refining and reinventing.

It's the contrast that allows us to see what our true desires are.

That means we try different things on and see how they fit.

There's no shame in that. In fact, it's empowering.

We can try as many things as we want and then keep what works for us, uniquely and completely us.

Reinvention isn't becoming someone different. It's not throwing away who we've been.

It's giving ourselves permission to fully step into what is calling us next.

One box at a time. One choice at a time. One brave act of commitment at a time.

Because there comes a moment when we have to decide.

Are we visiting this life? Or are we ready to live it?

Today, as I unpack another container and find places for the things that matter to me, I know my answer.

Today's Gentle Practice

Ask yourself:

Where in my life do I still have one foot out the door?

Not with judgment.

With curiosity.

Is there a dream you're only partially committing to?

A decision you've already made but haven't fully embraced?

A version of yourself that's waiting for permission to come all the way in?

Notice what comes up.

Then ask:

What would it look like to make myself at home here?

With you,

Lynn