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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