Pack It Up and Go Home

One year ago today I wrote a lengthy essay about a mouse pad, how it changed my life 20 years prior, and spilled the beans about how I was packing it and the rest of my life up and completely changing course. I had no idea where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do, I just knew that trapped in indecision wasn’t working for me and I couldn’t wait to have my life all figured out to start living it. I’ve been reflecting and ruminating on this journey as the one year anniversary of the #soulsabbatical approaches.

Looking back on that night, I was SO overwhelmed by all the decisions to be made, the things to purge and pack, and getting the ball rolling was incredibly daunting; but as required for this adventure, I did it anyway! As a person with a deep need for a sense of home, it was surprisingly easy handing over the keys to mine. This week I renewed the lease for the tenants in my little East Nashville house, and I’m housesitting for a friend I made the last time I sat in Sacramento. His dreamy victorian house is filled with my favorite kinds of architectural treasures, and I feel even luckier to be calling this place home for the week than I did for the one I’ve been paying the mortgage on for 7 years.

I lost several of my closest friends during the pandemic, and people I thought would be integral to my life forever are now strangers. I’m not sure how my karma points got so golden, but the actual strangers that have become my friends through this process are so supportive and kind, the holes in my heart left behind from those lost loved ones are healing. That same tired ticker got some life support through their wisdom and perspective. I have a couple repeat housesits in my queue because the people that have welcomed me into their homes have also welcomed me into their families. I’m extra grateful for that these days because some friction in my own family has stirred up a lot of old trauma and baggage. The rug got ripped out from under me, and it turns out I’d been hiding some dark and scary things under it. Peeling back all these layers of that metaphorical onion made my eyes water just as much as chopping actual alliums. It’s been a rough couple of months for me. I adore words, but I’ve been at a loss for them, completely unable to speak up about some things that were really heavy on my heart and mind. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t find bright shiny words for a blog I built to inspire people to stop waiting and start living. I was in survival mode, and the darkness drowned out any light I might have shared. I just spent two months in my favorite city in the world. I had been counting the seconds to get there and couldn’t wait to share my favorite tips, tricks, and treasures in the city with you. But when my thoughts turn that dark, I get very quiet, and finding my voice takes time. Too many words were zooming in my head to bring any to the surface.

I didn’t think I could live a life as a full time nomad without a comfort zone that felt like “home.” When I packed up all my crap, I knew everything was going to be fine because there was a place to go that still felt like mine. My family is everything to me, and there were things happening in it that I couldn’t find any peace with. On top of everything else going on, all the losses I was mourning, the removal of that sense of safety in a relatively risky chapter of my life opened the floodgates in a way I couldn’t possibly have prepared for. I’ve walked hundreds of miles from coast to coast while mulling things over since this process started. I didn’t just give up my house and my stuff for this adventure. I’m learning to lose the habits and hangups that kept me from happiness. Living out of a single suitcase means I don’t have the space to carry all that old baggage with me. I’m facing fears and letting them go every single day. Change used to be one of my biggest fears, but I’ve learned to embrace and welcome it. If “Home is Where the Heart Is,” and I’ve been trading pieces of mine with amazing people every time I change addresses, I’m not homeless. I am freaking lousy rich with “vacation homes.”

The all time high of my anxiety, fear, stress, and sadness coincided with pandemic peak, and it’s been a pretty scary time for me. It felt far bigger and badder than anything I worked through to prepare to take this big leap. If nothing else, this entire Soul Sabbatical Experience has been the perfect primer for just taking it a day at a time. All you can do is relax the reins. Do what you need to do to get through the day. Put one foot in front of the other and you’ll figure out how to get where you want to go. I wouldn’t change a single thing about this adventure. I know travel changes you and opens your eyes to far more than just beautiful sites, but I wasn’t prepared for how much it would teach me.

My mom doesn’t totally understand why I’m rapidly approaching 40 and cutting all semblance of stability and normalcy. She worries about me, but she’s letting me do what I need to do to find what makes me happy. All Asian daughters spend their entire lives seeking their mother’s praise and approval. Mine looked at me on a magically Christmafied street in New York City and gave me the greatest gift Santa could have ever put under our tree. She said “You are glowing. You are confident. You not only know your own power, you trust it. You are capable, and navigating in ways you never could have before this. I am so proud of you.” And you know what? I’m freaking proud of me too. This shit is HARD, but it is entirely worth it. I hope you enjoy this flashback to this day last year. It’s amazing how far you can go if you just keep taking it one step at a time. I still don’t know the final destination, but I’m smart enough to know that it’s all about the journey anyway.

A Facebook Post from 1/21/21

Would you believe me if I told you this mousepad changed my life? Unless we’re somehow related you wouldn’t see this if I hadn’t waited up all night on a dialup connection in my childhood bedroom to get it. Where I’ve been, what I do, who I know, who I am- started with this promo pad.

I’ve been a big Kenny Chesney fan since some roadies rolled around him on the George Strait Country Music Fest stage in silly wigs and Fisher Price tractors. Art Wheaton had taken me to over a hundred concerts before I was 8. I knew music was what mattered to me and I wanted to play a small part in the dream machine. Fast forward to high school, I was a card carrying Kenny Chesney fan club member. We made matching tshirts, we arrived hours early for the shows so we could stand front row and sing every word. We knew all the band and crew names, we knew the set list, we screamed with joy at surprise encores. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with my life, I just had to be a part of something that brought people together like that and free music wouldn’t suck. I made so many music loving friends in the message boards, some like Jamie White McMahen, who became a real life BFF. We were young girls trying to figure out college and careers so we could pay for things like CDs and concert tickets for the rest of our lives.

Then one day the message board had a pinned message that said they were changing platforms for the fan club, and the first hundred members to sign up would get a surprise in the mail. So we picked a board to meet up on and we logged in with snacks and credit cards and waited for it to flip. We talked about music and life. I excitedly told them I was thinking about NYU for their music business program. I’d always wanted to live in New York and I thought this was a great plan. Someone asked if I’d ever heard of MTSU, a sister school to Kenny’s alma mater, ETSU, but with a great Recording Industry Management program. Why go to New York when you can be in Nashville where the music you love is made? Solid point. I wrote that down and we kept making plans for other shows. The website flipped, we all registered as new members, we kept talking and dreaming. This mousepad arrived in the mail weeks later, my all-nighter surprise- a little lame, but worth the memories. On that random internet friend’s suggestion I wound up looking at MTSU, finding and attending Belmont, befriending Kenny’s incredible publicist, working for her, working for his label, welcoming every summer with his shows, chasing dreams, checking off career bucket list items...until I hit a wall.

I realized my whole life was work, I wasn’t really living, I wasn’t really making a difference- I was just working a lot but it didn’t bring me the fulfillment and satisfaction I craved. The dream machine makes it hard on fans- it’s like seeing how the sausage is made. It was about numbers, stats, charts and sales. The music that made my soul sing was going nowhere and the stuff that made my ears bleed was raking it in. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time. I made amazing friends, experienced things my young self could never have imagined, but I was married to my job and I got sad when I turned on the radio.

This is how I introduced myself for the entirety of my twenties: “Hi, I’m Lyssa, I work at Sony.” (And every job before it.) And I fully expected that person to tell me their name and what they did so we could figure out how to proceed. I had zero idea who I was outside of my career and I wanted to figure it out. Aside from family visits and vacations, my personal travel to that point was centered around concerts. I knew I loved being on the road, seeing new things, meeting new people, and I fell into an incredible career I called “Music Business Adjacent.” Strategic partnership building between hotels and brands, often with labels and tv shows and I got to keep doing the things I loved with people I cared about in some of the most beautiful destinations. It was so fun, and I was good at it. It kept me on the road, chasing moments and memories.

When the world shut down and travel stopped, I took a voluntary leave to help some friends and family with some projects and give our clients some time to focus on the most pressing pandemic challenges. I cant believe we’re rapidly approaching a year of this new world. Everything has changed so drastically and we’ve all had an awful lot of time with our thoughts, and our options for moving forward are an ever-evolving target. My penchant for meticulously planning months ahead doesn’t really work when every month we have to reinvent the wheel to swerve around a new crisis.

I had been feeling a little antsy, ready for a change of scenery, and contemplating moving to NYC when it became the epicenter and completely closed up. I’m a goal chasing planner, and I’m always working on the next thing. Telling me to stay in my house and await further instructions sent my brain into overdrive. Who am I? What am I good at? What do I really want? What do I need to be happy? Where should I focus my energy? I still don’t know the answers to those questions, but if this year has taught me anything- it’s that a fully fleshed plan isn’t the way to go. Pick a goal, work every day to make it happen and then set the next one. So here I am, my goal is to defeat my inherited packrat gene and let it all go. Lighten my load so I’m ready for my next adventure. So I sorted my tickets, passes, playbills, photos, memorabilia and memories and decided what made me happy and what I could live without. I cleared a drawer I haven’t opened in years and found this mousepad tucked in the back. It’s moved with me a dozen times, but it always reminds me to be open to unexpected nudges in the right direction. Before I tossed it in the music box, I took a moment to appreciate how I got it, where it brought me, the people I’ve met along the way, the stories we share, the memories we’ve made, and I’m so grateful for every single one. I say it all the time, it’s not curing cancer- but the music makes a difference. I can’t believe I moved here 17 years ago to chase those ambitions. I’m so proud to have been a cog in the machine that can give a universal voice to the human experience. It was my biggest dream until a dream of definition beyond my business card took root. Ive felt a lot of feelings trying to figure out what to chase next. I’m 35, I ripped up my 5 year plan, and for the first time in my life I’m really just winging it. I was brave enough to get here, and I’m brave enough to leave. I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m doing when I get there, I just know I’m ready for a change, the right thing will come, and I am not afraid. I know how to work hard, pursue my passions, make things happen, and have a marvelous time along the way. The rest will figure itself out.

I can’t believe you read this long about a mousepad. If you still have the energy to read, the last line of Kenny’s bio in that tour book is all I really wanted you to see. I’m experiencing a surfeit of emotions these days, but these two finds struck me hard today.