OK, I am nearly ready to admit defeat or claim victory and it’s really hard to say which at this point.
I’ve discovered that it’s not the giving up of stuff that’s killing me and making me cry all the time, it’s mourning my old life, which is definitely worse. I know that I’ll come around to loving things here, but right now the whole thing just feels filled with loss instead of filled with joy or good energy.
There are piles and piles of things we will be giving away at a garage sale soon. There are piles inside the house:
If you see things you may want or think you want, send me a message and I’ll box it up for you.
There are piles outside on the patio (thank goodness it’s not the rainy season or we’d be sunk!):
Much of this will be organized into the garage, but much of it will also be re-homed, but for now the garage looks like this and we can’t put things in until we get things out:
If you know me at all, you know I simply cannot stand messy. I can’t stand clutter and I can’t stand junk. It’s either used and loved or outta here! I’ve no problem giving things away, selling them, and other forms of finding new places for things to live, but this seems endless. It’s exhausting and all the clutter and un-made decisions have the effect of squashing me flat. I can’t find a smile these days. I don’t feel energetic, and I am not really hungry anymore. I’m worried that my face has formed itself into this permanent position of concern and confusion. Does this cause wrinkles? Who cares at this point.
The crying comes and goes, but at least I have a better idea of what it’s about. It’s not the stuff, it’s all the change and the loss of my old life in Colorado with friends and family nearby. This is a big crazy change and I have to say, I’m not fond of it. I’m sure there is a lesson in here somewhere. Would it please the universe to share it with me?
Emily, however, has gotten over the ‘vampire kitty’ phase and has begun her own settling process involving looking outside at the birds:
and lounging on my desk, where she can flick her tail into my tea and bat my fingers on the mouse:
She really missed the big comfy desk with lots of things to push off onto the floor. She hangs out here each morning as I get started. I missed her doing this and it’s nice to have that part of our routine back.