long and lonesome is the day that brings me here
It is the longest night, and tomorrow begins a new chapter of my life.
The vast majority of my possessions are in bags, ready to be taken on my trip with me, in boxes, ready to be moved into my new house on return, or strewn about in disorderly piles, still needing to be wrapped up and ready for transport. Living amongst such a disarray of waiting and expectation - not only in my house - has not been good for me.
I've spent the last week going through things -- pack this, save this for a few more days, toss this, give away this. Last night, I packed up and set out 15 large boxes/bags of giveaways for a local chapter of the VVA, which won in that it does front door pickups. I'd been intending on yardsaling much of it last season, or making a list of the things closer to my heart and seeing them go to friends and owners who would care for them, but time cut me off, and I resolved to let them go rather than move them again. At least, I console myself, this way, these things will go to people who really need them.
It's hard, though, when things carry so much symbolism. Twice on my walk into work, I nearly stopped and turned around, ready to change my mind on one or two of the things. In the end, I didn't.
A few of the boxes were old baby clothes. Several outfits my kids wore; some I've been holding onto for over 9 years now. Some things I picked up and they never got a chance to wear. The boxes have been in my closets of my mind, ready to be used and loved if I ever wanted to try again. But lately it's been more clear that have another baby is mostly my brain wanting to do it right this time. And as the past settles into the waves, and my life situation is what it is, I feel more certain I'm never going to be there again. And it's OK to let it go.
I didn't get rid of my maternity box, yet. It's only one box of nicer stuff, and maybe it can still go to friends.
I found a few trinkets that were symbols from my wedding year. These weren't nearly as hard to go through as I thought they would be. I do miss many things about that life, but I'm also pretty comfortable where I am. I can't say I'll never be married again, but I can say I don't want it now, and am at peace with it.
Going through bookcases has also been interesting. I never thought I would get all teary from going through my old astrophysics papers and notes. And yet.
It's hardly surprising; physics, like computer science, was an area that interested and challenged me, that I worked hard at, and that I never got As in. But unlike at least some of the computer science, I never did anything with it. And it's slowly slipped from my head. The calculus in my notes looked like a foreign language to me.
Another part that I am likely never going to go back to. It hurts to accept that. But I think I can. And so I move on.
Tomorrow, the sun rises, and slowly begins to conquer back the darkness. But tomorrow, also, the winter season begins. I have choices to make ahead. Will my life get bleaker or brighter?
I've learned a lesson this year. Never say, "Well, at least it can't get any worse." I am, however, determined to make it better.
Joie.
The vast majority of my possessions are in bags, ready to be taken on my trip with me, in boxes, ready to be moved into my new house on return, or strewn about in disorderly piles, still needing to be wrapped up and ready for transport. Living amongst such a disarray of waiting and expectation - not only in my house - has not been good for me.
I've spent the last week going through things -- pack this, save this for a few more days, toss this, give away this. Last night, I packed up and set out 15 large boxes/bags of giveaways for a local chapter of the VVA, which won in that it does front door pickups. I'd been intending on yardsaling much of it last season, or making a list of the things closer to my heart and seeing them go to friends and owners who would care for them, but time cut me off, and I resolved to let them go rather than move them again. At least, I console myself, this way, these things will go to people who really need them.
It's hard, though, when things carry so much symbolism. Twice on my walk into work, I nearly stopped and turned around, ready to change my mind on one or two of the things. In the end, I didn't.
A few of the boxes were old baby clothes. Several outfits my kids wore; some I've been holding onto for over 9 years now. Some things I picked up and they never got a chance to wear. The boxes have been in my closets of my mind, ready to be used and loved if I ever wanted to try again. But lately it's been more clear that have another baby is mostly my brain wanting to do it right this time. And as the past settles into the waves, and my life situation is what it is, I feel more certain I'm never going to be there again. And it's OK to let it go.
I didn't get rid of my maternity box, yet. It's only one box of nicer stuff, and maybe it can still go to friends.
I found a few trinkets that were symbols from my wedding year. These weren't nearly as hard to go through as I thought they would be. I do miss many things about that life, but I'm also pretty comfortable where I am. I can't say I'll never be married again, but I can say I don't want it now, and am at peace with it.
Going through bookcases has also been interesting. I never thought I would get all teary from going through my old astrophysics papers and notes. And yet.
It's hardly surprising; physics, like computer science, was an area that interested and challenged me, that I worked hard at, and that I never got As in. But unlike at least some of the computer science, I never did anything with it. And it's slowly slipped from my head. The calculus in my notes looked like a foreign language to me.
Another part that I am likely never going to go back to. It hurts to accept that. But I think I can. And so I move on.
Tomorrow, the sun rises, and slowly begins to conquer back the darkness. But tomorrow, also, the winter season begins. I have choices to make ahead. Will my life get bleaker or brighter?
I've learned a lesson this year. Never say, "Well, at least it can't get any worse." I am, however, determined to make it better.
Joie.