August 9, 2013
I have come to terms with the move. With leaving our home and our friends and the world we know so well, the world we've built over the last 13 years.
I'm even beginning to look at building a new life in a new place as an exciting adventure. A new phase in our lives. It'll be fun to decorate a new house...
But for the last two months I have been drowning in the ridiculously overwhelming amount of stuff there is to do to orchestrate a move. The sale of a home, the purchase of a home, the act of having all of one's belongings physically moved from one state to another, the closing down of one life, and the setting up of a new life in a new place (without even being there). And the exponentially greater difficulty of doing all of this with two small children and a dog.
It has begun to feel like everyone involved in the process is either actively out to get us or, at the very least, only concerned with their own profit from our situation. No one seems to have our back or our best interest at heart.
My stomach is in knots. My shoulders are in knots. My nerves are so close to the surface that I can burst into tears at any given moment…or into over-reactive yelling at my poor, "acting out because my mommy is a giant stress ball and my daddy is making us leave the only home we've ever known" children.
The stress level is so high.
I cannot remember the last time I felt this tightly wound.
I know in my heart of hearts that everything will work out okay in the end. That once we are settled in our new home, we will find a new routine and new friends and things will once again be wonderful. I will return to the lovely level of happiness I was at before this all started…and even better, my husband will join me there, now that he will be happy at work as well.
But even with that knowledge, I cannot seem to let go of the chaos and craziness and gnaw-at-my-gut angst I am drowning in now.
I keep trying. I have moments of success. Days even. When I am able to forget the mental and emotional turmoil and enjoy life and my kids and my husband and my friends again.
But then the seeping sewage of move-related stress oozes back in. And I am gone again.
We are only a week away from our last day in our current town.
The kids, the dog and I will be nomads for almost three weeks before we move into our new home, visiting relatives and hotels. My husband will continue to be a squatter in a rental near our future hometown. We will not see one another for said three weeks.
Which will totally suck. And. Maybe absolutely wonderful.
I hate the thought of leaving. And, I cannot wait to leave.
You know what I mean.
So those are my thoughts on moving. For today.
Until next time...