My son told me I downgraded my life when I moved to Jamaica.
A couple of years after I moved to Jamaica, I was talking on the phone to my youngest son (he just turned 24 last week) and during our conversation, he told me that moving to Jamaica was a downgrade for me.
When I asked him to tell me more about this, he pointed to things I had forgone when I moved such as no hot water (and sometimes no water at all!), no air conditioning, no car, no stable income, no access to food delivery services, no “real” grocery store that carried what I was used to eating, no movie theaters, and living 30 minutes away from any bank or grocery store.
As I listened to him, I could hear the programming in him that I undoubtedly had a part in helping to create as his mother. The programming that is married to the fear that the world is an unkind place and that the only way we can be safe is to enter into a “steady” career that can provide us with the financial means to be “secure”. The programming that tells us that financial security will bring happiness. The programming that tells us we can create security with things. The programming that tells us that we can actually create security (insurance, anyone?) because security exists, we just have to work for it.
Security is an illusion that we have been sold to keep us buying more, working more, and chasing more so that we don’t have time to stop and think for ourselves. If we have time to stop and think for ourselves, we may just figure out the big cosmic joke that this life is and realize that everything we have been taught to think is important doesn’t actually matter.
When I think back to the version of me that was raising my children, that version of me lived in constant fear of the world. That version of me lived in constant fear that I was a terrible mother more often than not. That version of me lived in a deep state of lack, always fearing that there wouldn’t be enough money, there wouldn’t be enough time, there wouldn’t be enough.
I wish sometimes that that version of me wasn’t the version that was raising my children but alas, that type of thinking is not only futile, it goes against my knowing that everything unfolds as it needs to, as it must. When this wishful thought arises, I redirect my thinking to my knowing that everything happens as it should for our highest good and growth and I remind myself that while I wasn’t a perfect mother (there is no such thing, after all), I had the best of intentions in doing what I thought was right for my children at the time with all of the imperfections I had to work with. I send love and compassion to that version of me; she worked so very hard and struggled with so much pain.
Moving to Jamaica was far from a downgrade and I know this deep in my soul. I have learned the challenging lesson that it is more than ok when others don’t understand my choices. This was an especially challenging lesson to learn because I so badly wanted those that I loved and cared for to see the magic that moving here has helped me to create for myself.
Yet so much of that magic is in my inner world that no one can see or feel in the same way that I do. The magic of feeling free, light, and unencumbered by the world (most days…I am human and there are definitely days when I get bogged down in human muck). The magic of feeling supported by the universe and not a victim of it. The magic of choosing to see the world (and myself) through the lens of love and compassion instead of the lens of fear and lack. The magic of cultivating unwavering confidence in myself and the universe.
That kind of magic can’t be found in air conditioning, hot water, or a fat bank account. That kind of magic isn’t found in the external world at all because it comes from within. And what if some of that magic was allowed to arise within me because I learned how to be ok without these things and I learned that these things do not actually give me security? What if?
Jamaica has helped me to heal, to peel back the layers of the programming and the fear that were bestowed upon me, and to discover deeper parts of myself that were lost in the hustle of the capitalist life in the US. There is something special for me about this land and I feel deeply honored to get to be here for this part of my incredible journey.
Choosing a simple life rooted in allowing myself time to explore my humanity, my divinity, my creativity, and my service is an absolute upgrade from my autopilot existence in the US and it’s ok if it doesn’t make sense to anyone but me. For those who don’t get it, I send you a high five full of love and light while I head out my door to walk less than 20 minutes to the nearest beach where I just might contemplate the cosmic joke this life is while feeling the sand between my toes and the warm Caribbean Sea on my skin.
Cheers to downgrading,
Deanna 🧚🏻♀️🪽🩵
I can relate to so much of this. Oddly, when i moved to Jamaica I felt tremendous guilt for leaving my son behind, EVEN THOUGH he was my biggest supporter of getting TF out of dodge.
I think few people would understand the lifestyle shift the way we (and others who've done it) would. Most Jamaicans I've known have the same outlook as your husband. They're a much more chill culture and they're used to living with less but appreciating more.
I wrote entire chapters in my "moved to Jamaica" book back in 2011. The sheer difference in quality of life is staggering but also sort of peaceful.
Stay simple, Deanna. It's a life many crave and few ever enjoy. ❤️
Sounds like an upgrade to me, Deanna.