It's been a busy week for me. I left my house at 4:30 Monday morning for my drive down south and pulled back in my driveway at 1:20 this morning. The days have been long, too, between working at the new school from 7:30 until 3:00 or 4:00 and then working at the new place until 9:00 or 10:00 each night. I now have callouses on my fingers and not one intact finger nail. I think I've also developed a new twitch somewhere on my face.
One afternoon this week, I stood in the middle of our new living room and took in the sight of missing drywall, a growing hole in the floor and soaked up my husband's predictions that we still won't be ready to paint by the weekend. All I wanted to do was cry. All I felt was nothingness. Numbness. Anyone who has ever reached the point of numbness knows that it's scarier than feeling like you're falling apart. It's one step beyond feeling like you're falling apart.
I couldn't help but wonder just what we had gotten ourselves into. This is what we're supposed to be doing. I know that. So why is this so difficult? When will I finally be able to sleep in my own bed? Or cook dinner? All I could see was the work ahead of us--the peeling and tearing down and throwing away and putting together and painting. It swirled in my head with the thoughts of the first week of school and the drain of ushering students to class and getting the classroom set up and figuring out the closest bathroom and copying policies.
That's when the heavens opened and all I knew was, "one step at a time." This is a difficult concept for me. After all, I have a track record for pushing myself along in critical moments. I'm always three steps ahead of myself worried about how I'm going to get there. It's so silly! Why worry about the painting when you still need to get new drywall up? This is true for all of us. We have just enough light for what is in front of us, and we have to make our decisions based on the information available to us at that time.
And we go from there.
Just for fun: (1) My new school has chickens and roosters running around on campus (I think they live at one of the nearby houses.) (2) I now have access to the most amazing Mexican restaurants and freshest produce within walking distance from work. (3) There's no stranger experience than shopping for alternative health books while listening to the older, foreign, female clerk watching porn behind the register.
One afternoon this week, I stood in the middle of our new living room and took in the sight of missing drywall, a growing hole in the floor and soaked up my husband's predictions that we still won't be ready to paint by the weekend. All I wanted to do was cry. All I felt was nothingness. Numbness. Anyone who has ever reached the point of numbness knows that it's scarier than feeling like you're falling apart. It's one step beyond feeling like you're falling apart.
I couldn't help but wonder just what we had gotten ourselves into. This is what we're supposed to be doing. I know that. So why is this so difficult? When will I finally be able to sleep in my own bed? Or cook dinner? All I could see was the work ahead of us--the peeling and tearing down and throwing away and putting together and painting. It swirled in my head with the thoughts of the first week of school and the drain of ushering students to class and getting the classroom set up and figuring out the closest bathroom and copying policies.
That's when the heavens opened and all I knew was, "one step at a time." This is a difficult concept for me. After all, I have a track record for pushing myself along in critical moments. I'm always three steps ahead of myself worried about how I'm going to get there. It's so silly! Why worry about the painting when you still need to get new drywall up? This is true for all of us. We have just enough light for what is in front of us, and we have to make our decisions based on the information available to us at that time.
And we go from there.
Just for fun: (1) My new school has chickens and roosters running around on campus (I think they live at one of the nearby houses.) (2) I now have access to the most amazing Mexican restaurants and freshest produce within walking distance from work. (3) There's no stranger experience than shopping for alternative health books while listening to the older, foreign, female clerk watching porn behind the register.
Comments
And I'm really excited about your chickens.
As for the sense of crushing overwhelmed-ness... I can feel your pain on that one. And at the risk of being weird, I offer the best solution my creative mind has ever stumbled across for getting through such tasks as moving, cleaning, and getting my brood where they need to be when they need to be there. It's www.flylady.net . Click on the "join flylady" place and get the emails. I rely on them to tell me what to do so that I can show up with my wits about me, and my creative side doesn't have to worry about remembering to wash clothes. All in an encouraging package with constant reassurrances such as "you are not behind" and "you can do this" and stuff.
It's been my saving grace many a time!