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It’s almost November, which means it’s time to arm for war. I’ve been in a years long battle with the city of Atlanta over the abandoned house next door. It acts as a rickety old Monster House in real life. Its windows are boarded (sometimes), its roof hangs off-kilter, and critters of every sort crawl in, out all day long – but worse in the winter. Because we live in the perimeter city limits, our house is all of five feet from said Monster House, which means said critters often find their happy selves jumping onto our roof. And in the winter, they go looking for ways in. This is where I come in. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. And me and my can of spray foam go rogue searching all over the exterior of my house for “entry points”. If you drive by, you may find me hanging off a ladder with a staple gun stuffing wads of steel wool into the space between my gutter and my house. Because I hate unwelcome guests sneaking into my attic. After an hour last week of pulling vines off the house siding, it hit me, this is exactly what holding onto your growth looks like: maintenance. Reading the seasons. Maintaining your infrastructure. Always working to fill the cracks. This is the kind of work required to maintain the things you fought for this year. Because you fought for a lot, and when the cool sweeps in, there’s still some work left to make sure it holds. While I’m going to keep calling the city, this old abandoned house might be here for a while. I feel like that represents the things in our lives that we will always have to fight, but with thoughtful care can manage. Some things never leave. Alcoholics understand this. With steady choices every day, they do not actively live in alcoholism but must remain self-aware enough to know the Monster House is just over the fence. Everyone has a Monster House. The guy who always shows up to make a mess of your life. The anger that jumps out when you least expect him. That tempation that calls louder after a few drinks in. Maintenance is the work of the wise. And as annoying as it is, in October if I crawl onto my roof and fill in the holes, then my January is peaceful. But if I ignore the work my home requires, infestation is inevitable. That’s probably the same for you. I know you want to kick up your feet by the fire, I know you want to enjoy the last day of this year. But there are still a few small things to check on. It’s not time yet to lay off the gas on becoming who you’re meant to become this year. I don’t know what’s gnawing at you today. The temptation to send the DM, the anxiety around holiday food calling you back into your eating disorder, the depression that hangs around the memories on the horizon, but get on your roof and tell the Monster House, “not today.” Fill the cracks now, because winter is coming and what you do now will prove a direct reflection of the life you get to live then. Have a good day today,
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