One week, two weeks, one month, two months, one year or two… Our hearts seem to keep track of significant days even when our brains forget to. Or more accurately, when our brains try to tell us that these big and small milestones don’t matter.
I moved in to my new digs two weeks ago. Last Tuesday when I woke up I was feeling Capital-A Agitated and I had no idea why. Eventually it dawned on me that my body and emotions were acknowledging that it had been one week since the big moving truck shifted my life. Big changes. Once I clued in and acknowledged all the schtuff that I was feeling the day got better. Today I was a little quicker to recognize that it has been two weeks. Wide Awake at 4:30 this morning I wanted to get up, to go, to finish unpacking and get settled in this new place and I did, sorta. I gave in to what my body and mind wanted and got an early start on the day.
The boxes aren’t all unpacked yet but most of them are. I can see my desk now. I can actually sit at my desk and write. I will be glad when the piles are gone and my space feels clear again. It’s hard when you move into a space one fifth the size of what you had. It can feel chaotic as things find their new space, or get turfed out. My body and soul want some calm. There has been so very much change in the past 6 weeks, so much sifting and sorting, saying goodbye to old routines and learning new ones.
The definition of grief is: “the conflict of emotions that happens whenever an established pattern changes.” I’m grateful to have the Grief Recovery process to help me find my way through this. xo