I have been an emotional and physical mess lately. While desiring progress in my home repairs and preparations, I seem to be unconsciously working through some personal repairs and preparations, as well. In fact, the latter seems to be making more active progress than the former. While the nightmares of last week have gone (for now), they have been replaced with more vivid dreaming. These are not especially good nor especially bad dreams, but they are many in number and very involved, and they are keeping me from receiving any real rest when I sleep. I am waking up more exhausted each morning than I was when I welcomed sleep the night before. I am also greeting each morning with such stiffness and tension throughout my body as makes it very uncomfortable to set myself upright. In addition to my sleeping complaints, I have been experiencing some powerful and inexplicable mood shifts during my waking hours. By inexplicable, I mean that these emotional outbursts come on suddenly and strongly and seem to have no attachments to any current circumstance. For instance, yesterday, while doing some repair work with my father, I experienced a sudden surge of foul and prolific anger. there was no logical connection to this outburst with relation to our work. And my father had been only kind and generous in his help. But I could not easily contain this anger, so I had to end our work early and take him home. Fortunately, I was able to explain the strange circumstances to my dad so he understood (if even only a little) what was happening. But it only made me feel worse that I could have possibly injured his feelings, and that our work - and time together - was cut short because of my reckless emotional state.
My body is sore. I am tired - inside and out. It is getting more and more difficult to find center. I do not know how to navigate these experiences. I feel so very ill equipped to understand fully what is happening. I have glimpses of insight: I believe this taking apart of my home and the life I’ve built 'til now is releasing old and buried injuries and accomplishments that never had their due expression. But I confess that I don’t know how to allow their release in such a way that they do not break me or harm those around me.
I do not mean to put a negative shadow on these experiences. I believe they are healthy and a necessary shedding of the old to make room for the new. in general, I feel quite happy and excited about the new journey for which I’m preparing. I suppose I just forget that what I’m doing is bigger than simply changing my living arrangements - more, I’m changing my life as I’ve ever known it. I am actually trying to create a life I’ve long dreamed about living. I am risking the comforts of the familiar and safe and stepping into the great unknown. I am releasing my grip on conventionality. I have never felt myself to be conventional, yet I realize that I have most always acted in conventional ways. I must remember that with the breaking of convention comes the responsibilities of facing those fears inherent with unknown paths.
So, still, I struggle to understand all that is unfolding before and within me. Still, I struggle with my impatience to have it all happen now and to have it happen easily and without any real effort on my part. But, as everyone knows, all experiences and rewards of true consequence can only be gained by giving of oneself to something greater. So, I will continue to give as gracefully as I am able in the hopes that I will be rewarded for having done so.
31 May, 2010
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 ...
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 ...
07 May, 2010
New Discovery
I've been in a holding pattern with the house these past couple of weeks. I had a handyman come out to look at the repairs I need doing, and have just been waiting around for his estimate. Admittedly, there are things I could be doing, but I've been pretty tired ... especially following the trip to Merlefest and the hiking on the Appalachian Trail with my dad last weekend. I've also been working out pretty regularly with my girlfriend, Chris, which has me pretty knackered. (It's good, though, getting more 'in' my body, and feeling it taking shape.)
So, after that last post, I was having some premature seller's remorse. I was really starting to feel a strong attachment to the house, and most especially, to the yard. I've planted so much love in those gardens, and they are all doing so well this year! I was beginning to wonder if I was going to talk myself out of my plan. But, alas, inspiration came to me which once again ignited my excitement and determination to do what it is I'm doing. This inspiration came to me in the form of a realization, really. I realized that in order for me to be really happy in a new home on wheels, I have to really find a home on wheels that will make me happy every time I came home to it. I need to find a home that is dreamy and that has design features that are beautiful as well as functional. I decided I needed a vintage travel trailer!
Early on in my decision to make this leap into living in an RV, I decided my preference was to live in an enclosed rig. I had narrowed it down to a Class C so I could get the smallest self-contained unit available (that wasn't a van conversion). I was excited about the possibilities, but even the old Class C rigs are relatively unattractive.
Now I've decided that a trailer pulled behind my vehicle is both a convenient AND pretty option. I would love a trailer from the 1940s, but they are nearly impossible to find. I'm looking primarily at models from the 1950s and 1960s. They still have the same general aesthetic as the 1940s models. Most of these trailers have gorgeous birch interiors with original ovens and iceboxes. There are almost always some beautiful little decorative details strewn about the place that you just don't see in the more modern models. One might say that the older travel trailers were crafted, while the new rigs are simply manufactured.
Okay, well, I've altered my plan a bit. But I'm so terribly excited about it. I can't believe I didn't realize this earlier! But I'm so glad I realized it now rather than later. I've been hunting down trailers just to see what's out there, and it's really not too difficult to find any number of models available. Now I have to decide if I want one that has already been restored, or if I want to do the restoring myself to my own specifications. What features do I consider absolute necessities, and what am I willing to forgo? Plus, I'm also going to have to start looking for towing vehicles too. My little car isn't strong enough to pull even these lightweight vintage trailers, so I'll have to get something with a little muscle. I'm thinking about a Jeep, but we'll see what is available when I need it.
I'm so excited ... once again! And that makes me even more excited! Now if I can only get that handyman to make me an estimate ... and one that I can afford ... I'll be on my way!
So, after that last post, I was having some premature seller's remorse. I was really starting to feel a strong attachment to the house, and most especially, to the yard. I've planted so much love in those gardens, and they are all doing so well this year! I was beginning to wonder if I was going to talk myself out of my plan. But, alas, inspiration came to me which once again ignited my excitement and determination to do what it is I'm doing. This inspiration came to me in the form of a realization, really. I realized that in order for me to be really happy in a new home on wheels, I have to really find a home on wheels that will make me happy every time I came home to it. I need to find a home that is dreamy and that has design features that are beautiful as well as functional. I decided I needed a vintage travel trailer!
Early on in my decision to make this leap into living in an RV, I decided my preference was to live in an enclosed rig. I had narrowed it down to a Class C so I could get the smallest self-contained unit available (that wasn't a van conversion). I was excited about the possibilities, but even the old Class C rigs are relatively unattractive.
Now I've decided that a trailer pulled behind my vehicle is both a convenient AND pretty option. I would love a trailer from the 1940s, but they are nearly impossible to find. I'm looking primarily at models from the 1950s and 1960s. They still have the same general aesthetic as the 1940s models. Most of these trailers have gorgeous birch interiors with original ovens and iceboxes. There are almost always some beautiful little decorative details strewn about the place that you just don't see in the more modern models. One might say that the older travel trailers were crafted, while the new rigs are simply manufactured.
Okay, well, I've altered my plan a bit. But I'm so terribly excited about it. I can't believe I didn't realize this earlier! But I'm so glad I realized it now rather than later. I've been hunting down trailers just to see what's out there, and it's really not too difficult to find any number of models available. Now I have to decide if I want one that has already been restored, or if I want to do the restoring myself to my own specifications. What features do I consider absolute necessities, and what am I willing to forgo? Plus, I'm also going to have to start looking for towing vehicles too. My little car isn't strong enough to pull even these lightweight vintage trailers, so I'll have to get something with a little muscle. I'm thinking about a Jeep, but we'll see what is available when I need it.
I'm so excited ... once again! And that makes me even more excited! Now if I can only get that handyman to make me an estimate ... and one that I can afford ... I'll be on my way!
26 April, 2010
Busy as a Bee ... bzz .. bzz!
Well, I have been remiss in writing, but that's not to say I've been lazy. On the contrary: I've been busy, busy, busy around here. And I've made some real progress on my To Do list, too!
In the past couple of weeks, I've managed to tidy up my landscaping. I've cut grass, weeded gardens, planted, transplanted, created new footpaths, and, finally, even managed to step back and enjoy the fruits of my labors. I re-purposed the old rabbit run into a more proper compost bin, and cleaned up the old haphazard compost pile that I'd been 'crafting' for five years.
I painted the cabinet doors and reattached them to the kitchen cabinets and the hutch cabinets.
I hung new moulding in the kitchen - at the top of the upper cabinets, and just under the lip of the countertop. (It's a simple moulding, but I think it looks really swell in my kitchen.) I got some pieces of pegboard to hang as a backsplash behind the sink, and as a side panel for the oven. (I still have to do the actual hanging, though.)
I hung new window treatment hardware on most of the windows, and got some nice new curtain panels for them, too. They are white cotton curtains with natural jute horizontal stripes. I love them. They are simple. They let the light shine into the room while still affording privacy. And they are beautiful.
My dad and I cleaned out my garage. (That was a dusty enterprise!)
I boxed up the books from the built-in bookshelf, and decorated the shelves with a few remaining cookbooks and plants and display trinkets that will be staying with me.
I have begun cleaning up the old Frigidaire Flair oven to get it ready to sell. (If you aren't familiar with these vintage ovens, you should do a google image search. They are fantastic ovens with some brilliant design touches!)
I've reorganized the bedrooms, which contain primarily three piles of boxes: Stuff that I am keeping; stuff that I am discarding; and stuff that I need to address again to decide if they are keepers or not.
I removed the nasty old caulking adhesive from the tub. (FYI: The adhesive caulking strips do not work!)
I began going through my kitchen cabinets to purge items that I don't essentially need.
And, finally, I had a scare with Lucy Cluckernutter, one of the chickens. I came home the other night from a very hectic day, and sat on the patio to check out the yard, and watch the chicks a while. I soon after noticed that Lucy's foot was trailing a path of bloody prints. When I looked at her foot, it was covered in blood. I immediately tried to get close enough to her to see if I could find the source of the bleeding, but she isn't used to being handled by humans, and runs anytime anyone gets too close. I called my dad, but he didn't know what to tell me if I couldn't even access the foot. Then I found a vet specializing in avians and exotics in Raleigh. They were willing to see Lucy if I could catch her and bring her in. It would be an emergency visit since they were closing within the hour, and wouldn't possibly make it in before then. I called everyone I could think of who might be willing and able to help me try to catch Lucy, but all I was getting was voice mailboxes. None of my immediate neighbors were home. I was freaking out at this point. Try as I might, I couldn't catch her by myself. Finally I got through to my friend and neighbor, Jenn, and she and her husband came over and helped me catch my wounded hen. (Thanks to Jenn and Jeff for being two of the best friends and neighbors ever!) The vet was great, and gave her a full check up after addressing her wound. Turns out one of the blood feathers on her foot got pulled out somehow, and that will cause bleeding. He dressed the wound, gave her an excellent bill of health, charged me a small fortune for the after hours visit (which was totally worth it!), and sent us on our way.
Whew! I think that's it.
I've been trying to take photos as I go, though, admittedly, sometimes forget to get good before shots. I'm hoping to get the photos downloaded before too long, so you can take a look at some of the progress for yourself.
It's ironic how preparing a house to put it on the market can really endear it to the current owner. As I'm seeing my house and, especially, my yard coming together so nicely, it's really been sprouting some conflicting arguments in my mind. I'm hearing that little voice trying to consider what it might be like to stay here a little longer ... or indefinitely. Then the other voice begins to extol the virtues of mobility and travel and simplicity. Then the two voices start bickering back and forth. When this happens, I just remove myself from the argument. I am sticking to my plan. I don't have to think about those big decisions yet, anyway. I'm just going to keep moving forward and working toward my original goal, and I will deal with the rest later, when it's more relevant. That's the plan. I have a plan. Yes, sir. The plan's the thing.
Okay, so for now, I'm off to re-caulk the bathtub, among other things. I hope you're having a lovely and productive Spring, as well!
Ciao!
In the past couple of weeks, I've managed to tidy up my landscaping. I've cut grass, weeded gardens, planted, transplanted, created new footpaths, and, finally, even managed to step back and enjoy the fruits of my labors. I re-purposed the old rabbit run into a more proper compost bin, and cleaned up the old haphazard compost pile that I'd been 'crafting' for five years.
I painted the cabinet doors and reattached them to the kitchen cabinets and the hutch cabinets.
I hung new moulding in the kitchen - at the top of the upper cabinets, and just under the lip of the countertop. (It's a simple moulding, but I think it looks really swell in my kitchen.) I got some pieces of pegboard to hang as a backsplash behind the sink, and as a side panel for the oven. (I still have to do the actual hanging, though.)
I hung new window treatment hardware on most of the windows, and got some nice new curtain panels for them, too. They are white cotton curtains with natural jute horizontal stripes. I love them. They are simple. They let the light shine into the room while still affording privacy. And they are beautiful.
My dad and I cleaned out my garage. (That was a dusty enterprise!)
I boxed up the books from the built-in bookshelf, and decorated the shelves with a few remaining cookbooks and plants and display trinkets that will be staying with me.
I have begun cleaning up the old Frigidaire Flair oven to get it ready to sell. (If you aren't familiar with these vintage ovens, you should do a google image search. They are fantastic ovens with some brilliant design touches!)
I've reorganized the bedrooms, which contain primarily three piles of boxes: Stuff that I am keeping; stuff that I am discarding; and stuff that I need to address again to decide if they are keepers or not.
I removed the nasty old caulking adhesive from the tub. (FYI: The adhesive caulking strips do not work!)
I began going through my kitchen cabinets to purge items that I don't essentially need.
And, finally, I had a scare with Lucy Cluckernutter, one of the chickens. I came home the other night from a very hectic day, and sat on the patio to check out the yard, and watch the chicks a while. I soon after noticed that Lucy's foot was trailing a path of bloody prints. When I looked at her foot, it was covered in blood. I immediately tried to get close enough to her to see if I could find the source of the bleeding, but she isn't used to being handled by humans, and runs anytime anyone gets too close. I called my dad, but he didn't know what to tell me if I couldn't even access the foot. Then I found a vet specializing in avians and exotics in Raleigh. They were willing to see Lucy if I could catch her and bring her in. It would be an emergency visit since they were closing within the hour, and wouldn't possibly make it in before then. I called everyone I could think of who might be willing and able to help me try to catch Lucy, but all I was getting was voice mailboxes. None of my immediate neighbors were home. I was freaking out at this point. Try as I might, I couldn't catch her by myself. Finally I got through to my friend and neighbor, Jenn, and she and her husband came over and helped me catch my wounded hen. (Thanks to Jenn and Jeff for being two of the best friends and neighbors ever!) The vet was great, and gave her a full check up after addressing her wound. Turns out one of the blood feathers on her foot got pulled out somehow, and that will cause bleeding. He dressed the wound, gave her an excellent bill of health, charged me a small fortune for the after hours visit (which was totally worth it!), and sent us on our way.
Whew! I think that's it.
I've been trying to take photos as I go, though, admittedly, sometimes forget to get good before shots. I'm hoping to get the photos downloaded before too long, so you can take a look at some of the progress for yourself.
It's ironic how preparing a house to put it on the market can really endear it to the current owner. As I'm seeing my house and, especially, my yard coming together so nicely, it's really been sprouting some conflicting arguments in my mind. I'm hearing that little voice trying to consider what it might be like to stay here a little longer ... or indefinitely. Then the other voice begins to extol the virtues of mobility and travel and simplicity. Then the two voices start bickering back and forth. When this happens, I just remove myself from the argument. I am sticking to my plan. I don't have to think about those big decisions yet, anyway. I'm just going to keep moving forward and working toward my original goal, and I will deal with the rest later, when it's more relevant. That's the plan. I have a plan. Yes, sir. The plan's the thing.
Okay, so for now, I'm off to re-caulk the bathtub, among other things. I hope you're having a lovely and productive Spring, as well!
Ciao!
10 April, 2010
TCB
This has been a most productive (and tiring!) week at the homestead. I managed to find a motivating fire to stick 'neath my bum, and it burned for the better part of the week. With the help of my generous papa, I was able to remove my old lavatory sink, install my new lavatory sink, dismantle the chicken coop, turn the old bunny run into a compost bin, do the first big tidy to the yard (mow, weedeat, prune hedges and such), and move the frigidaire flair oven I got last year from the garage into the house. The latter was a complete bitch of a task, but I'm glad it's done. Next on the agenda is to clean up said oven and make sure it's still working properly. Then I need to sort through my mass collection of tools and hardware. I've also got to clean up the farm table and chairs and get them ready to sell. The weather's been hot, but nice and dry. My only complaint is the full contact assault from the pollen noodles in my yard, in my hair, on my skin, in my lungs, and everywhere else. The wee bit of rain last night didn't seem to do too much to assuade them. (bastards!)
This was a lean week where clients are concerned, but next week is shaping up nicely, so I'm not too worried there.
My emotions are still running high and frenzied, though their manifestation has been shifting toward more of an overpowering sense of nostalgia. This is framed mostly around my late college and early post-college days. Having a lot of sensations of regret for the way I handled almost every situation and opportunity I encountered. This is especially difficult to know how to navigate since I am technically opposed to the idea of regret. I realize that had anything been handled differently I might not be who and where I am today. But it's the Who I Am Today that has issues with the way I handled things Then. I'm just trying to recognize these contradictory feelings, and accept them as mile markers on the learning curve of my life. This is, of course, very frustrating and very interesting for me. I wonder what will present itself next?
If anyone out there has some good ideas or suggestions for how to handle these emotional conundrums, I'd love to hear them. Go ahead ... speak out! I'm listening.
This was a lean week where clients are concerned, but next week is shaping up nicely, so I'm not too worried there.
My emotions are still running high and frenzied, though their manifestation has been shifting toward more of an overpowering sense of nostalgia. This is framed mostly around my late college and early post-college days. Having a lot of sensations of regret for the way I handled almost every situation and opportunity I encountered. This is especially difficult to know how to navigate since I am technically opposed to the idea of regret. I realize that had anything been handled differently I might not be who and where I am today. But it's the Who I Am Today that has issues with the way I handled things Then. I'm just trying to recognize these contradictory feelings, and accept them as mile markers on the learning curve of my life. This is, of course, very frustrating and very interesting for me. I wonder what will present itself next?
If anyone out there has some good ideas or suggestions for how to handle these emotional conundrums, I'd love to hear them. Go ahead ... speak out! I'm listening.
05 April, 2010
Cake and Eggs?
Today is my birthday. Happy birthday to me. Though, it doesn't really seem as festive as I'd hoped. I'm sharing a birthday with a major Christian holiday, and that always just seems like a rip off. This fact is being driven home by the somewhat forced dinner I've been invited to attend at my parents' home today. My mother is very good at getting her way. And while I will enjoy spending time with my family, it's not really how I would have chosen to celebrate today.
Anyway ... that's not important. I'm just feeling a tad sorry for myself, I think. It's been such a difficult couple of weeks. The yard sale was last Saturday. It went very well. I unloaded much more of my stuff than I ever expected to, and made a decent cash stash to boot. All the preparations, pricing, organizing, set up, and clean up were a nice distraction to keep me from getting too bogged down in my grief over Charlie's absence. However, once the sale was over, I was left without that lovely distraction, and have been feeling those sharp pangs of grief in many moments. I imagine this will be happening for a while. Just last night I had this very precise moment when I realized - almost as if for the first time - that Charlie is really not coming back. He's not on vacation. He's not outside playing in the yard. He's gone. Forever. Needless to say, that was a pretty crappy moment.
My sister also moved last week. Her new apartment is fantastic. It's an old building in the middle of Durham. She's on the top floor. The entire place is reminiscent of an apartment building in New York City. She's been unpacking and decorating and buying lovely new/old pieces of furniture and decor. It's absolutely charming. Seeing her in this new place and watching her go through the process of making it her home and her canvas, of sorts, has started to reawaken the nester in me. It's as if there's a quiet battle raging within between the Happy Homemaker and the Restless Nomad. But, I'm sticking to my Path and just continuing to follow the plan I've laid out already. I am trusting that if the Path needs to change, then I will know it so strongly and so completely that there will be no doubt about which direction to choose. And when I listen to my quiet little internal voice, it is still guiding me toward the RV. I have to remember this when I find myself fantasizing about Sister's apartment.
Now that the yard sale has opened up some space in the house, it's time to start making some repairs. I'd really like to get the house on the market by May, if possible. (Though I do realize that this might be a slightly lofty aspiration.) Yesterday, Dad came over and helped me patch up the cracks on the chimney. Hopefully this will keep the chimney from leaking anymore. The sealant was quite toxic, so the breathing of it wasn't so fun, but the views of the neighborhood from the roof of my house were really lovely. I'd never been on my roof before. Perhaps I'll go again before I move, and take my camera for some photographic memories.
Tomorrow we are planning to replace the bathroom sink. I bought the new one already, we just need to remove the old one and put the new one in its place. It's been so long since I installed the last sink. I hope I remember how to do it properly without having to make fourteen hundred trips to the hardware store like last time. But it will be nice to start seeing some real improvement taking place in the house. And it will be very nice to start checking off items on my repair list.
Okay, time to go to my "birthday dinner". Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. If you don't, then I'll wish you a very merry unbirthday!
Anyway ... that's not important. I'm just feeling a tad sorry for myself, I think. It's been such a difficult couple of weeks. The yard sale was last Saturday. It went very well. I unloaded much more of my stuff than I ever expected to, and made a decent cash stash to boot. All the preparations, pricing, organizing, set up, and clean up were a nice distraction to keep me from getting too bogged down in my grief over Charlie's absence. However, once the sale was over, I was left without that lovely distraction, and have been feeling those sharp pangs of grief in many moments. I imagine this will be happening for a while. Just last night I had this very precise moment when I realized - almost as if for the first time - that Charlie is really not coming back. He's not on vacation. He's not outside playing in the yard. He's gone. Forever. Needless to say, that was a pretty crappy moment.
My sister also moved last week. Her new apartment is fantastic. It's an old building in the middle of Durham. She's on the top floor. The entire place is reminiscent of an apartment building in New York City. She's been unpacking and decorating and buying lovely new/old pieces of furniture and decor. It's absolutely charming. Seeing her in this new place and watching her go through the process of making it her home and her canvas, of sorts, has started to reawaken the nester in me. It's as if there's a quiet battle raging within between the Happy Homemaker and the Restless Nomad. But, I'm sticking to my Path and just continuing to follow the plan I've laid out already. I am trusting that if the Path needs to change, then I will know it so strongly and so completely that there will be no doubt about which direction to choose. And when I listen to my quiet little internal voice, it is still guiding me toward the RV. I have to remember this when I find myself fantasizing about Sister's apartment.
Now that the yard sale has opened up some space in the house, it's time to start making some repairs. I'd really like to get the house on the market by May, if possible. (Though I do realize that this might be a slightly lofty aspiration.) Yesterday, Dad came over and helped me patch up the cracks on the chimney. Hopefully this will keep the chimney from leaking anymore. The sealant was quite toxic, so the breathing of it wasn't so fun, but the views of the neighborhood from the roof of my house were really lovely. I'd never been on my roof before. Perhaps I'll go again before I move, and take my camera for some photographic memories.
Tomorrow we are planning to replace the bathroom sink. I bought the new one already, we just need to remove the old one and put the new one in its place. It's been so long since I installed the last sink. I hope I remember how to do it properly without having to make fourteen hundred trips to the hardware store like last time. But it will be nice to start seeing some real improvement taking place in the house. And it will be very nice to start checking off items on my repair list.
Okay, time to go to my "birthday dinner". Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. If you don't, then I'll wish you a very merry unbirthday!
25 March, 2010
Letting Go
I have written several times of the emotional expenditures involved with saying goodbye to the attachments of my old life and creating a [relatively] blank canvas for my new one. This point was very painfully and articulately driven home earlier this week.
I went out of town this weekend to visit my grandfather in Kentucky, and to meet my parents who were there to help a friend box up her deceased husband's clothes. All things considered, it was a nice trip. I was able to take a lot of walks around the town where I spent the earliest years of my childhood. And that gave me a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I started thinking about Charlie, my canine companion of 11 years, and my best friend in the world. I started wondering if anything I was doing with his diet, his skincare, his supplements was helping to make him feel better. I started thinking the thought that had been nagging at me for weeks, but to which I was too mortified to give conscious thought: Am I being selfish by hanging on to Charlie when he might be much more grateful to be released? The thought, of course, filled me with varying flavors of guilt, heavy sadness, and a heartache like I scarcely remember ever feeling. And that was just thinking about it..
When I returned home on Sunday night, greeted by my ever faithful Charlie at the door, I realized something that I hadn't fully noticed when being in the house full time: The house smelled very strongly of 'sick dog'. The odor hit me like a thrust from a prize fighter. I knew what was coming next. But, I still wasn't ready to admit it.
The next day, I forced myself to really consider Charlie. I wanted to try to put myself in his skin, and think about how I would want to be cared for by my companion. I could almost hear him telling me that he was only still hanging around because he knew how much I needed him. He didn't want to let me down. He was afraid to leave me. I knew he'd been miserable for some time, and even though I tried to tell myself that he was showing little signs of improvement - a slight patch of hair was starting to regrow; he was falling down not quite as many times as he has been - I knew that his eyes had been telling me what I didn't want to know. There'd been no joy in his eyes for months. When I looked at him, I only saw an exhausted determination to keep trying to make it through the day.
I had my answer. I had a silent exchange with Charlie, and I could swear that I saw relief in his eyes..
I called my parents to ask for their thoughts on the subject. Would they think I was a monster if I helped Charlie to find the peace I finally knew he needed?
They were wonderful and supportive.
I asked my sister the same thing. She said she was surprised I hadn't made the decision a while ago. She was totally understanding and a great pillar of support.
I asked my mother to make an appointment for us that same day.
So, on Monday, the whole family (mom, dad, sister, and me) all went to the veterinary office with Charlie. I asked mom to make him some bacon. I asked sister to bring him a banana. I shared some buttery toast with him before we left. He rode in my lap all the way there.
Charlie has never been a big fan of visits to the vet. He doesn't get crazy, but he's usually pretty tense and cautious when we have to go. This time he was cool as a cucumber ... which was surprising all the more, since his family was surrounding him with tearful attention like he'd never experienced. At first I thought he must think we are all crazy to be so sad. After all, he was receiving love, attention, and bacon from the people who love him. But, I think he just knew why he was there, and was ready to say goodbye.
He was tranquilized first, which was hard enough. And then we all gathered round him as he was given the injection that would stop his heart and give him the peace I knew he'd been wanting for so long. He didn't look scared. I stayed at his head and kept looking in his eyes so that I would be the last thing he would see, and he would know that he was safe. Then, his eyes rolled back, and it was over.
I think this was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I have cried and moaned and wailed in the deepest, most gutteral tones of unadulterated grief. But, I have been supported by my family and friends. My sister, especially, has been a great help to me.
And, it's also fortuitous that the yard sale I'd already planned is this Saturday, so I have had lots of distractions in getting ready for that. Clearing out the house, and seeing it look less like a home is actually a great comfort to me right now. The hardest moments for me are when I come into the house, and he's not here to greet me. Eleven years of having him at the door when I enter it ... it feels very lonely to be without that.
So, it must really be time for me to learn the lesson of Letting Go. It's a bitch of a lesson, but I'm trying to handle it with as much grace as I can. And with that, and a little help from my friends [and family], I know I'll find my way.
I went out of town this weekend to visit my grandfather in Kentucky, and to meet my parents who were there to help a friend box up her deceased husband's clothes. All things considered, it was a nice trip. I was able to take a lot of walks around the town where I spent the earliest years of my childhood. And that gave me a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I started thinking about Charlie, my canine companion of 11 years, and my best friend in the world. I started wondering if anything I was doing with his diet, his skincare, his supplements was helping to make him feel better. I started thinking the thought that had been nagging at me for weeks, but to which I was too mortified to give conscious thought: Am I being selfish by hanging on to Charlie when he might be much more grateful to be released? The thought, of course, filled me with varying flavors of guilt, heavy sadness, and a heartache like I scarcely remember ever feeling. And that was just thinking about it..
When I returned home on Sunday night, greeted by my ever faithful Charlie at the door, I realized something that I hadn't fully noticed when being in the house full time: The house smelled very strongly of 'sick dog'. The odor hit me like a thrust from a prize fighter. I knew what was coming next. But, I still wasn't ready to admit it.
The next day, I forced myself to really consider Charlie. I wanted to try to put myself in his skin, and think about how I would want to be cared for by my companion. I could almost hear him telling me that he was only still hanging around because he knew how much I needed him. He didn't want to let me down. He was afraid to leave me. I knew he'd been miserable for some time, and even though I tried to tell myself that he was showing little signs of improvement - a slight patch of hair was starting to regrow; he was falling down not quite as many times as he has been - I knew that his eyes had been telling me what I didn't want to know. There'd been no joy in his eyes for months. When I looked at him, I only saw an exhausted determination to keep trying to make it through the day.
I had my answer. I had a silent exchange with Charlie, and I could swear that I saw relief in his eyes..
I called my parents to ask for their thoughts on the subject. Would they think I was a monster if I helped Charlie to find the peace I finally knew he needed?
They were wonderful and supportive.
I asked my sister the same thing. She said she was surprised I hadn't made the decision a while ago. She was totally understanding and a great pillar of support.
I asked my mother to make an appointment for us that same day.
So, on Monday, the whole family (mom, dad, sister, and me) all went to the veterinary office with Charlie. I asked mom to make him some bacon. I asked sister to bring him a banana. I shared some buttery toast with him before we left. He rode in my lap all the way there.
Charlie has never been a big fan of visits to the vet. He doesn't get crazy, but he's usually pretty tense and cautious when we have to go. This time he was cool as a cucumber ... which was surprising all the more, since his family was surrounding him with tearful attention like he'd never experienced. At first I thought he must think we are all crazy to be so sad. After all, he was receiving love, attention, and bacon from the people who love him. But, I think he just knew why he was there, and was ready to say goodbye.
He was tranquilized first, which was hard enough. And then we all gathered round him as he was given the injection that would stop his heart and give him the peace I knew he'd been wanting for so long. He didn't look scared. I stayed at his head and kept looking in his eyes so that I would be the last thing he would see, and he would know that he was safe. Then, his eyes rolled back, and it was over.
I think this was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I have cried and moaned and wailed in the deepest, most gutteral tones of unadulterated grief. But, I have been supported by my family and friends. My sister, especially, has been a great help to me.
And, it's also fortuitous that the yard sale I'd already planned is this Saturday, so I have had lots of distractions in getting ready for that. Clearing out the house, and seeing it look less like a home is actually a great comfort to me right now. The hardest moments for me are when I come into the house, and he's not here to greet me. Eleven years of having him at the door when I enter it ... it feels very lonely to be without that.
So, it must really be time for me to learn the lesson of Letting Go. It's a bitch of a lesson, but I'm trying to handle it with as much grace as I can. And with that, and a little help from my friends [and family], I know I'll find my way.
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