Who would have thought that something as simple as a bookcase could bring me to tears? Not me, that’s for sure. But when I thought about filling those shelves with books and binders and all the things that would bring my office closer to being ‘finished,’ I couldn’t stop the waterworks.
With each thing in our home that we put together so that it’s complete and just the way we want it, we inch one step closer to being settled into our new home. In our new city. Away from the life we left behind.
With each box that’s emptied and each picture that’s hung on the wall, we step deeper into this new life, and I’m not sure I like it. I haven’t decided yet if I’m ok with it. I haven’t let go of my last life just yet. I’m stuck in limbo with my heart in one place and my body in another.
Putting books on those shelves is so symbolic that I just can’t make myself do it. I need to get my office put together so that I have a space in my home that is mine. A place I can go when I need refuge. But I haven’t even attempted to do so. It feels like I’m accepting defeat by settling into this house and making it a home. And I don’t just accept defeat. So I resist.
But what good is it doing to keep resisting? None.
It isn’t helping me at all to continue on in this pattern of unacceptance. I want to accept things the way they are. I want to integrate fully into my new life, but somehow I feel frozen and can’t seem to do so.
I guess, if I’m really being honest, I don’t really want to and that’s the problem. I want my old life back. I don’t want this new life. At least, I’m not sure that I do. Maybe, given more time, I will come to love it. But for now, I miss the old, familiar, comfortable life that I left behind.
I’ve got to get a handle on this. I’ve got to. It’s been six months. I didn’t think I would still be having this much trouble at this point, but it seems another wave of grief has washed over me in the last few days. I could just hold on tight until this wave passes, but I really just need to go ahead and deal with it. I need to find a way to accept things for the way they are and put some closure on the past.
Guess I better get busy figuring out how exactly to do that. For now, I think I’ll start with the bookcase. Who knows? Maybe it will even feel a little more like home when I’m done. And, isn’t that the goal, anyway?