for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." - Anatole France
First there was packing, then moving, and the last 10 days have been a trial as half the time I spent in New York and the other half I spent wishing I had moved some things and not others. The packing process got so crazy that I didn't quite think everything through, because every time someone came over to help I wanted to give them something to do. It resulted in a few things--like the cleaning towels!--getting moved and promptly LOST.
I am struggling with the fact that I didn't pack so many of my own belongings. Things got moved that weren't ours and had to be brought back. I have no idea what is in what boxes for half of what I own, so I can't even find a lot of things. It's making me very anxious. My first goal has been to just accept it as a state of being. I'm anxious. Recognize it, acknowledge it, accept it. I'm frustrated. Same process.
Then I get to start looking at whether I can fix it and how. The HOW is easy: Put our hands or at least eyes on the contents of every box at home and in storage, and either unpack the contents or repack for long-term storage. I can't fix it right now, because there are more important things. But rather than "can't," I tell myself that I am CHOOSING other priorities over the anxiety-borne desire to know where everything is and have it in place RIGHT NOW. It's a difficult sell because I am not choosing the tumultuous and chaotic lifestyle that we're living right now, but I console myself with the fact that it's temporary. I must say I've handled the constant changing of plans very well, partially due to recent practice and partially because I went into the situation knowing plans would have to be fluid. It's a plan, not a stone tablet.
And temporary it certainly is. Mr. Moon got not just one job but TWO this week on our unscheduled trip for interviews, and the two jobs sound as if they are willing to share him. He's planning on doing the two-job thing as long as possible, whether the schedules start to conflict, he becomes overworked, or his father's health becomes a deterrent. He starts Monday, we move the last of our belongings and our cat on Sunday after we recover from expected hangovers. A going away party on our favorite drinking holiday of the year? What can possibly go wrong??