I haven’t found a writing spot here yet in my new house. Of course, I’m still unboxing – and at that stage of unpacking where everything must go in a place, the place likely won’t make sense or be its permanent home, but THE BOXES MUST GO! And maybe there’s a cozy little writing nook just waiting for the boxes to be gone to show itself. Maybe.
I just reread the posts I wrote since leaving my last home. And yeah, all pretty accurate. It’s ironic that I went from numb to not being able to shut off the waterworks and anxiety for a solid 3-4 weeks. I’d say even up to today, many things continue to be … more challenging that they really ought to be. There’s not 1 phone call or email that accomplishes a thing – it’s still multiples of each whether I want to or not. From getting my new license plates to finding out how much car insurance actually costs (still waiting on a response to that email). But getting my license went relatively smoothly. And all the worries I had about getting pods delivered and my stuff moved in since parking is only a thing in the back of my house went reasonably well too. So it’s not everything. But then, the lock on the back door I’m trying to replace and the never ending plumbers out to give me estimates for the problems that have cropped up and the oh hey, good thing pest control isn’t coming for the carpenter ants til later in the week because cool we have mice. Never. Ending. At least it feels that way much of the time.
And yet. I had enough time and felt like enough other pressing things were done this weekend to paint my bedroom. Which was originally not on my radar as “first things” because it was painted a pretty grey-blue. Except that I like brighter colors. And while I liked the grey-blue, it was sure making me unsettled. And I realized it was damned near the exact color blue I painted my last bedroom in my last house with the ex. Triggering actually. But now it’s gone and I’ve got this sort of blue minty and turquoise thing going on. Mint can stay… if I were to lay odds, I’d say turquoise is changed to a more blue turquoise in the next year.
My point is though that I’ve done enough “settling” into this new house to take up some less-priority things like painting my bedroom. And I’ve stopped turning into a bucket of tears and overwhelmed inertia for the most part, which is damned good because I don’t know that girl and I didn’t enjoy her visit pre-during-initial-post vacation. Hard pass. But then, vulnerability is about feeling the feels and not hiding from them. And maybe when you’ve been emotionally constipated for a while, it’s not surprising to have a veritable diarrhea of feels present as anxiety and “I can’t do this tears”? Lovely image, no?
Adventure. Possibilities. Living a new way. That’s what I was signing up for. I suppose I shouldn’t be so bothered or really surprised that all of those things require building new mental and emotional muscle to access and live a different way. ’d say this has been a massive struggle. Much more so than I’d really connected to as a possibility. Like, you know it’s going to be “hard” but what does that look and feel like exactly? Really hard – fairly lonely and most insidiously doubtful. Full of doubt. The best thing I’ve had going for me on the hardest days has been my 100% belief in, understanding of and resolve that leaving Utah was the only choice for me going forward. Too long in a place too religious, too increasingly dry/hot to live in, too much the same as it always was that I’d already thoroughly experienced. I have zero doubt leaving was the best call for me. I have mostly no doubt that this was the right time. The rest of all of it, I battle to not doubt. It’s a bit silly to do it – it’s done. I’m here. I’m in this house. I’m putting all my crap away here. I’m painting it colorful. I’m getting repairs done. I’m still enjoying the way sunlight hits leaves and tree trunk so early in the morning as it comes up over the sea because there aren’t mountains in the way. I’m realizing that coasters are a legit need in the humidity. I’m trying hard not to feel like i’m living waiting for the next shoe to fall.
There was always going to be an adjustment period. I was always going to have moments where I wondered just what in the hell I was thinking before. There were probably even always going to be moments of me thinking… well, i have to give it a year + before I call it a winner or a loser. I’m not going to write that “it’s all going to be ok”. I mean, one way or another it will in the long run I suppose, but that’s not what I’d mean. So I’m not going to say it because I’m too close to that doubt today. But maybe in a few weeks when another room is painted, I will be able to write it and start letting that doubt go.
Everything doesn’t have to happen all at once – however much I push things in that direction as often as I can get away with. Slower. Slow. Acceptance. Eyes wide open. Breaths. Walking slowly. Breathing slowly. True acceptance. Possibilities.