What was I thinking blogging about preparing for an empty nest, making a move, and trying to sustain my creative time?!
Apparently, I’m bat-shit crazy. But bat-shit crazy works for me, or so I believe.
We (aka ‘I’) are less than a month away from moving the kiddo to his new digs at training camp. Packing up and moving, then travelling for exhibition games, and then moving him again.
As if that weren’t going to be busy enough, I ( aka ‘we’) decided that our big-move in date would be less than a month after the kiddo moves out. So, as is required, I gave my notice and began house hunting.
And then someone did a beauty job in a hit and run on my car, causing over three thousand dollars worth of damage. I’m currently in a rental.
Oh, and my health is not so great according to my latest doctors reports. I have an ulcer (surprise, surprise) and I’m packing on weight.
Lesson #1 here folks – make sure you have damn good insurance.
Lesson #2 – fat happens. Just stay positive and work on it every day.
This morning, while waiting on an offer to be approved on a second house, and a call from a mover coming to give me an estimate, I received the call from my mechanic.
I did not panic. Ok, my stomach turned, but that was about it. I got up, bathed, put on some make-up over my stress-acne, poured my coffee and got on with life…(Yah, you heard that right, on top of everything else, I’ve broken out in zits from the stress. There’s nothing like a pudgy forty-something-year-old-broad dressed in a muu-muu sporting acne to scare you into doing what she tells you to do.)…I also took a moment to snuggle my kitty cat, and look at the little garden outside of my writing window.
Grace. Somehow, with all of the ups and downs, despair over how I will make things work, and feeling alone in the world, I’ve managed to cultivate it a bit more. And for that I am grateful.
God bless my man, his life has been a cakewalk. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good man; a hard worker, faithful, and ranks in the top percentile of the world’s best cuddlers, but his easy life has not given him the skills to cope well with change or when real-life doesn’t read like a Disney fairytale. Coping with his anxiety and stress has also helped me flex my ‘grace’ muscle. Sometimes I’m better at it than others, but I’m getting there.
Lesson #3 – not everyone is at the same stage of cultivating grace.
The update is that everything is up in the air. I have no where to move as of right now, but I have a deadline to clear out of here. I have no car, and haven’t seen the end of the total tally of what it’s going to take to get it on the road. I’m saying good-bye to my kiddo, the person who has kept me from despair, alive and vibrant for the past 18 years, and I’m moving in with a man for the first time in over 17 years.
Wish me luck. We’ll see how this grace thing works out…if it doesn’t, I’ll be reverting back to the ‘F’ word and bourbon, as a plan ‘B’.
As I type this, the mover is at my dining room table writing up an estimate with my cat inspecting his paperwork…I don’t think old Portuguese men are into cats who make themselves at home on the table… My son is on speaker phone with another teenager, organizing the packing for a camping trip, and my man is panicking about the signatures required on more documents and planning social events for the day that my kiddo is supposed to move out. Life is glorious if you let yourself enjoy it. The chaos of life makes me happy ( after all, the alternative at work is that I’m surrounded by death and loss all day).
Life is full, it’s busy, it’s like a river, always changing and revealing surprises.
I need quiet for reflection and rejuvenation. I need life to help me remember that it’s all worthwhile. Our ability to know when we need quiet, and when we need to throw ourselves into the fray is not always great. We can only try to be satisfied with our best intentions.
When all else fails; Breathe in, breathe out, move on, take the weather with you, let it be, let it go, just breathe…whatever kitschy sayings get you through, lean on those. If that fails, cuddle some kittens, break out the bourbon and curse like a sailor.