Deep-Pocketed Sheets

In my planning, I did not move with a bed because I did not want any old beds coming with me into my new life. Instead, I planned to purchase a “freshie” bed to go with my “freshie” sheets and “freshie” nightstands and “freshie” lamps. Out of all the rooms, the bedroom was the one I had designated as a room of all-new items for my new space.

But do you think I could go out right away and purchase my new bed when I arrived at my new space to make my life more comfortable? Nope. I could not. I thought about it and thought about it and thought about it, and I was frozen. FROZEN. I could not make any major purchases until I knew which way my life would lean. Were my personal items going to disappear into the Universal ethers, and I’d truly be starting fresh? Or would my personal items miraculously appear, and I could build from there? I teetered with a lawn chair, a makeshift desk, and an air mattress. And I sat on the stairs a lot. Without having the answer to my dilemma, I could not go bed-shopping. Night after night, after leaning into rebuilding my business online, I slept on an air mattress, wondering about my life.

Then, miraculously, my personal possessions arrived, and I could finally, in good conscience, go bed-shopping. But still, I hesitated. I unpacked box after box, reuniting with the things of my life to create my new spaces. I even gloriously unpacked my “freshie” new sheets! I reveled in their color and texture. I washed them and folded them. I thought, “Ah, I can create my new bedroom.”

But still, I could not go bed-shopping. Me and the air mattress? We were becoming old friends. Three more weeks went by as I slept on air, wrapped in old sheets.

Why could I not go bed-shopping?

And then it broke. Let’s just put a delicate matter this way: a series of events occurred, helping me revisit aspects of many of my past relationships with men. Husbands, boyfriends, father, brother, uncles, grandfathers. I went through a review of my interactions with them in how they helped me and hindered me. How they held me up, celebrated me, and in other ways, eroded me down. How they taught me essential skills I desperately needed, and also learned from me what I could teach them. How they partnered with me through amazing experiences and horrifying events. How they loved me and betrayed me and abandoned me and championed me and held me. How they pulled me apart like taffy and put me back together again in new ways. It was a review of the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the richness, the disparity, the power, and the vulnerability. All of it and more. And the review brought me through to the reflections of my own healings and growth and reclaiming of myself, of being my own woman, in a way that I’m only beginning to realize will take me some time.

This event helped me see how far I’d come, and it helped me begin to get clear on what I want in my relationships with men both in the bedroom and outside of it.

This, I believe, is why I could not purchase my new bed. The Universe was holding me in limbo until I decided what I wanted to begin to create in partnerships when I became ready. And a bed, more than anything, holds and symbolizes the most intimate interactions of the partnerships we experience in our lives . . . even if that partnership is just with ourselves for a while.

Once the Universe elevated me into this come-to-Jesus meeting of clarity with the men in my life and encouraged me to begin to make my new decisions about future partnerships, that’s when it became possible to claim my new bed. My “freshie” bed.

Thursday of last week, in an auspicious rainstorm, I went bed-shopping because I wasn’t just going to purchase any old bed over the internet. I wanted to test drive this thing. I’d been hearing, you know, that bed technology has gone so far as to make you feel like you’re riding a spaceship at night because these things are so wired with new technology! Ha!

And you’d think this would be a glorious moment for me, getting to ride mattress-ed spaceships, but frankly, I’m worn out from everything, and I just did not want to wade through the stickiness of “being sold to.” The last thing I wanted to do was lie down on beds in front of salespeople as they tried to sell me. Blech.

But I had to do what I had to do, and I was heartened that I had a green light for my new bed.

As I pulled up to my first store of choice in the middle of town, my windshield wipers blading back and forth across the glass, scooching the raindrops over, I looked at the store I’d chosen, and my panel of Ascended Masters showed up and said, “Nope. Not a chance. This is a bad luck store. Don’t even go in.”

But I felt like pressing my luck, so I went in and wandered around the store, and not one, I kid you not, not ONE salesperson in the bed department appeared. Usually, in places like these, you get swarmed by salespeople. I tried out a few beds just to get a feel, and still. No one. It was like the Universe said, “See? Not here.”

I left and got back into my car with the hot and happy breaths and tail-waggings of my dogs, wanting to know where we were going next. I Googled “mattresses” into the map on my phone and watched as more choices populated my phone screen than I could visit in a day. And so, I asked my Spirit Team, that panel of handy-dandy Ascended Masters who were so opinionated that day, “Okay, guys, what store has my best-matched bed at the least expensive price and the best service? I want this to be easy-peasy and good. No hassles.”

And, BING! When I looked at my map and scanned through my choices, Yakima Mattress Firm absolutely gleamed on my digital phone map. As it turned out, it was just blocks down the road from where I was.

So, I tooled down the road and found that I had the mattress store all to myself, and I was greeted by a smart twenty-something Latinex woman with a clipboard and a can-do attitude, who literally walked me through my bed paces. No skanky bed sales here. She wanted to test me through the beds of choice until we found my utter right match. My tired and cranky attitude about bed-shopping melted as she asked me question after question, educating me on the state of the nation of beds until I absolutely sank and bonded with a firm Queen Pressure Smart Luxe that I knew was MINE.

And then I had the sense to look at the price. Ack.

It was out of my budget until she price-matched the queen as a twin/full and then gave me the adjustable base without the remote for free (because these days, there is no such thing as box springs and a frame – who knew?!) and threw in the delivery at half-cost. I essentially got the package for $1,100 less than list price. HappyThankYouMorePlease of this, Universe!

I was in such a whirl that I missed one slightly important detail. Just as I was walking out the door, I secretly freaked. Somehow, it had escaped my attention that the mattress I had bonded with. The mattress I’d just paid for. The mattress I’d just ordered for delivery on Saturday, was a DEEP mattress. A thick mattress. A mattress that knew no bounds of its own depth! I thought, “Crap! I’m going to have to purchase a whole other set of sheets!”

But because I’ve been through sooooo much lately, and because I’m just tired of dealing with all the details, I did that thing that’s not really a good idea. I said to myself, “Okay, we’ll figure it out when the bed gets here.”

Sure enough, the delivery guys showed up early on Saturday. They made efficient and friendly work of moving my bed into my home. And there, finally, my new “freshie” bed gleamed in my new “freshie” bedroom. After reveling in the fact that things were truly beginning to land in my life, including a bona fide bed, I opened my closet and began pulling out the sheets I’d purchased nearly eight months before. I shook out the blue flannel set with white snowflakes because it was still chilly at night. I shook them out and began making the bed, fully prepared for them not to fit but ready to make do and lo . . . that’s when I remembered I’d purchased deep-pocketed sheets without knowing what they were.

That’s right. It turns out that every single one of my new sheet sets? Deep-pocketed. DEEP-POCKETED!

How do you like them apples? How did the Universe know eight months ago that I’d land on my feet with a deep-mattress spaceship, ready to sail me into the new dreams of my life? Full-fitted with my “freshie” deep-pocketed sheets.

Ha. There truly are no accidents. Especially if we’re paying attention.

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Dana Stovern is founder and coach of The Magic of Somatic Money, and author of the blog Along the Learning Curve of Life. Even though her profession is body-based money relationship coaching, her first love is words, writing and exploring the depths of the human conscious (or unconscious) condition in body and soul development.