This has to be one of the worst moves we've ever done. I've been sick to my stomach for 3 days, now, cramps, nausea, unable to eat hardly anything. At first I figured it was a virus, but now I'm beginning to wonder.....maybe I've give myself ulcers. I know I've always been a pretty introverted person, not prone to outbursts, expression of emotion, or crying. But these last few days of packing up my home, planning a cross-country trip, and making plans for the rest of the fall (including more trips, visits, a new studio, school, classes for Violet), and our trip cross-country, my own human methods for dealing with stress have completely broken down. My usual, "suck it up and drive on" attitude has just utterly failed.
I find myself a complete psycho-wreck. I argue with myself over every decision. "Should I take this? Pack it? Sell it?" must be applied to every household item. I feel my mental faculties breaking down, now, when I look at my kitchen-aid, and ask myself if I can live without it for a year. Frustration sets in, and I begin cussing when a cabinet won't shut properly, or the door isn't left open when I thought it was, and I run my elbow into when passing with a box. Violet is ever-sensitive to my emotional status, and she begins to worry, which shows itself in the frequency of her, "Momma?"s They turn into near-shrieking, "Momma-Momma-Momma-Momma-Momma?!"s and I bark at her, "STOP TALKING!!"
She looks at me in wonderment when I appear in the room, and says, "Did you yell???" I apologize, swallowing down guilt, and try to explain what frustration is. I ask her to keep her voice quiet. She says, "But, can I say, Momma, Momma?" I then find myself making a rule that she may only say, "Momma" one time, then she must wait. For Momma's sanity. Gosh, who DOES that?!
Once my husband came home, I curled up in a fetal position on my couch, the only thing left in my living room besides boxes, and just forced myself to look at the coming year....without Ben....in a new home.....and let it out. I cried for 15 minutes without stopping....and my stomachache went away. At least, for a little while. It came back that night after I shared some of Ben's chicken wings at our favorite, B.J.'s restaurant. Mistake. :(
The rest of the afternoon, however, went beautifully. The Holy Spirit definitely gave me rest, and I managed to get quite a lot done.....and spent time with my family, too, at the mall, and got a lovely haircut. :D
I told Ben, "Remind me that I need to cry more often. At least once a day." It just has to be done. Apparently, one must train oneself to cope, whether it be to "suck it up and drive on" for some or "cry it out" for others.
Share my burden of grief with me as you look at these pictures. Remember my home? The one which received the award for "Best-decorated in Your Neighborhood" from Equity Housing? *Sigh*
Good thing my real home is in heaven.