If there's an antidote to sadness, you can just hand it over right now.
Tomorrow will mark the first day of the last week I will ever spend at this house, to my knowledge. It's weird. There's definitely this sense of, what do I do!? Shouldn't there be something momentous marking this period? And yet, I feel a definite desire for things to just be the way they were. I think it's a sort of denial. Like when you want to sleep until the last second you can.
I feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed. I started to pack and allofasuddenatonce realized what a big job that was going to be. So I'm overwhelmed. But I also don't want any of the activity to stop, because I don't want to think about what's coming... I mean, I don't want to process it anymore. It's too close, too near, to large. Like, I'LL DEAL WITH THE GIGANTIC SPACESHIP LOOMING BEHIND ME WHEN IT GETS HERE, ALRIGHT!?
And yet, knowing what I'm doing... ie: hiding... I want to force myself out into the open, to process and be done, the way I usually move through large events in my life. But this can't be just processed and put away. It's not a tiny box that can be unpacked and stuffed in the closet.
Nothing this big has ever happened to me. So I don't know what to do with it.
And I think that is the hardest thing: moving through this without knowing really how I'm going to react, how I'm going to feel - giving myself grace has never really been my strong point. And so I feel kind of bad about how I've been gradually, more and more, putting everything aside these last two weeks. First writing, then ballet stuff, then projects, then friendships. Weird things seem like a priority. I guess the similar thread is my family: I'm doing stuff with them. I don't want to miss this time. I just don't, don't, don't want to miss this time.
I'm so sad to be leaving them. I never knew what sadness was before this. Sadness is when all of your good memories make you want to cry. I'm not just leaving my house or my family, I'm leaving a whole era of my life. It will never, ever, ever be the same again. I don't know who I am without my family and my house and the "questions I call home" (from the song Shattered). I guess this is necessary because under these circumstances I can discover a deeper level of who I am that isn't dependent on my family or living situation. But what if I don't want to be anybody else?
I feel at peace about everything... my parents going, my staying, etc. But peace does not negate sadness. It merely gives it full reign. I've given up my anger, I've lost my irritation: I'm simply and non-negotiably SAD. And yes, it makes me want to watch Sue Thomas all the time and ignore my life - yet at the same time it drives me toward my Bugs. I'm a strange mix of "distract me" and "let me be alone."
But the one emotion that is eating at me is FEAR. I'm not afraid I won't make it on my own. I know myself too well; I know that I'm capable of generally caring for myself and running my own life. But I don't know if I'll be happy there. Without my family. My woods. My room. And what I'm mostly afraid of is the first two months. I'm afraid I'll emotionally have a train wreck and I won't be able to recover. I suppose that's ridiculous, but I just know that I have NO IDEA where the strength for getting through this is going to come from. So I suppose I do know where it'll come from: God. I'm trying not to throw a pity party.
This is the calm before the storm. It's that torn feeling between anticipation and terror: I want it over, and I also want it never to come. And then I wonder sometimes, is there really a storm on the horizon at all? Am I just fooling myself into thinking this will be impossible for me?
I don't know.
Those three words pretty much describe me this week. So if you're one of the people, activities, or projects I'm putting off: I'm sorry. Be back, I don't know when. Maybe never. It feels like the whole world is changing. But it also feels eerily calm as I walk through normal family activities this week like nothing is about to happen.
I feel like I should be getting something done. But there's too many things to do and what I really want is my bugs or Sue Thomas (because Sue Thomas reminds me that it's not all bad living on your own with a roomie). So I'm going to release myself from the expectation of doing anything but family and packing this week. The rest of life, you really can just wait. So be quiet, voices.
To all of you reading this, thanks for your love as I walk this long, strange road.
Tomorrow will mark the first day of the last week I will ever spend at this house, to my knowledge. It's weird. There's definitely this sense of, what do I do!? Shouldn't there be something momentous marking this period? And yet, I feel a definite desire for things to just be the way they were. I think it's a sort of denial. Like when you want to sleep until the last second you can.
I feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed. I started to pack and allofasuddenatonce realized what a big job that was going to be. So I'm overwhelmed. But I also don't want any of the activity to stop, because I don't want to think about what's coming... I mean, I don't want to process it anymore. It's too close, too near, to large. Like, I'LL DEAL WITH THE GIGANTIC SPACESHIP LOOMING BEHIND ME WHEN IT GETS HERE, ALRIGHT!?
And yet, knowing what I'm doing... ie: hiding... I want to force myself out into the open, to process and be done, the way I usually move through large events in my life. But this can't be just processed and put away. It's not a tiny box that can be unpacked and stuffed in the closet.
Nothing this big has ever happened to me. So I don't know what to do with it.
And I think that is the hardest thing: moving through this without knowing really how I'm going to react, how I'm going to feel - giving myself grace has never really been my strong point. And so I feel kind of bad about how I've been gradually, more and more, putting everything aside these last two weeks. First writing, then ballet stuff, then projects, then friendships. Weird things seem like a priority. I guess the similar thread is my family: I'm doing stuff with them. I don't want to miss this time. I just don't, don't, don't want to miss this time.
I'm so sad to be leaving them. I never knew what sadness was before this. Sadness is when all of your good memories make you want to cry. I'm not just leaving my house or my family, I'm leaving a whole era of my life. It will never, ever, ever be the same again. I don't know who I am without my family and my house and the "questions I call home" (from the song Shattered). I guess this is necessary because under these circumstances I can discover a deeper level of who I am that isn't dependent on my family or living situation. But what if I don't want to be anybody else?
I feel at peace about everything... my parents going, my staying, etc. But peace does not negate sadness. It merely gives it full reign. I've given up my anger, I've lost my irritation: I'm simply and non-negotiably SAD. And yes, it makes me want to watch Sue Thomas all the time and ignore my life - yet at the same time it drives me toward my Bugs. I'm a strange mix of "distract me" and "let me be alone."
But the one emotion that is eating at me is FEAR. I'm not afraid I won't make it on my own. I know myself too well; I know that I'm capable of generally caring for myself and running my own life. But I don't know if I'll be happy there. Without my family. My woods. My room. And what I'm mostly afraid of is the first two months. I'm afraid I'll emotionally have a train wreck and I won't be able to recover. I suppose that's ridiculous, but I just know that I have NO IDEA where the strength for getting through this is going to come from. So I suppose I do know where it'll come from: God. I'm trying not to throw a pity party.
This is the calm before the storm. It's that torn feeling between anticipation and terror: I want it over, and I also want it never to come. And then I wonder sometimes, is there really a storm on the horizon at all? Am I just fooling myself into thinking this will be impossible for me?
I don't know.
Those three words pretty much describe me this week. So if you're one of the people, activities, or projects I'm putting off: I'm sorry. Be back, I don't know when. Maybe never. It feels like the whole world is changing. But it also feels eerily calm as I walk through normal family activities this week like nothing is about to happen.
I feel like I should be getting something done. But there's too many things to do and what I really want is my bugs or Sue Thomas (because Sue Thomas reminds me that it's not all bad living on your own with a roomie). So I'm going to release myself from the expectation of doing anything but family and packing this week. The rest of life, you really can just wait. So be quiet, voices.
To all of you reading this, thanks for your love as I walk this long, strange road.