28 May, 2010

Just keep swimming .. Just keep swimming ..

So much change, so quickly, has left me reeling. Or, more accurately, left me struggling to maintain balance in the midst of a swirling vortex of chaos and momentum. Every day seems like a strange trial of will and intention, of emotional and physical fortitude. It’s like I’m the character in a Greek myth ... well ... one of the really minor ones, at least.

Since I last wrote I have had meetings with a total of three realtors, and as many repair men. I have received two estimates for repair work needed, and am still awaiting a third. I have made repairs myself. I have arranged for one piece of furniture to be consigned. I [finally!] sold my beast of a couch. I have read countless books and articles on how to sell a house, how to stage a house, how to choose a realtor, how to make repairs of various kinds. I have researched vintage travel trailers. I even went to look at one for sale in the area. I have shopped online for possible used vehicles with towing capacities large enough for the trailer I will eventually have. I have cleaned my house ... and cleaned my house ... and cleaned my house some more. I have rearranged furniture and organized everything in several successions. My lawnmower has died. And my lawnmower has magically revived. (Thank goodness!) I have made time for exercise. I have blown off time for exercise. I have completed one list of tasks only to discover a new list of tasks that need to be tackled. I have mourned for the loss of my beloved Charlie. I have tried to make time for my bunny and chickens. I have had moments of great inspiration and motivation and progress. I have had days where the mere thought of doing anything left me frozen like a deer trapped in the blinding glow of fast approaching headlights. I have made lists - dozens and dozens of lists. I have soared with excitement. I have cried with fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty.

But, through all of this, I still believe I am on the right road.

It is exhausting, to be sure. And it’s scary, too. There are still so many questions I can’t answer. So many logistical aspects for which I cannot yet plan. I am forced to work in the moment and to trust that what lies ahead will unfold in such a way that all those loose ends will magically weave themselves together into a cohesive whole. This is a difficult practice for the planner in me.

It’s also really difficult for me to be spending this time in my house - when I most want to be enjoying it before leaving it - constantly having to seek out its flaws and failures. Having no real furniture left in the living room, a spare bedroom full of castoffs ready to sell or donate, sleeping in a bedroom cramped with papers, books, and sundry trinkets to be sorted and boxed or discarded: there is very little space in which to live. The entire house is now made up of opposing camps: the too-empty spaces, and the too full. Nowhere in my home do I feel really at home anymore.

To add the icing to the cake of this current chaos, I have been having the most exquisitely terrifying nightmares. As far as I can remember, I’ve never had real nightmares. I have always been a vivid dreamer, but they’ve never been so bone-chillingly scary before now. They've been waking me up in the middle of the night - paralyzed with fear - in a bedroom that feels claustrophobic and a house that seems much too quiet.

So, this is where I am. I am exhausted. - physically, mentally, emotionally. But I’m still plugging on toward my goal. My dad and I will be spending the rest of the week/end doing more repairs. And I will be spending each night thinking the happiest thoughts I can conjure before bed. Here’s to happy dreaming ...

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