Monster Book of Monsters
Well, in this case it might be the "Monster Box of Monsters". Years ago, shortly after the death of her 13 year old daughter, my friend Mim described opening the boxes of Christmas ornaments as being similar to the Monster Book of Monster's from Harry Potter. It's a book about monsters, and they actually jump out at you. I had a glimmer of understanding when she made the comparison, but I didn't really get it until last night. It's the dread of knowing that something is going to jump out at you, in this case emotions and memories.
I finally had a few moments last night where I could start to tackle the boxes that I brought down from D.C. I packed them two years ago, headed for a life much different in scope (but much the same in intention) than where I find myself today. Opening those boxes was more build up than anything. In truth, I was surprised that things didn't hit me harder than they did. I didn't get very far because of the late hour, only four boxes, and I haven't hit the mother-load, the box with all the memories. I suppose that it says something about where I am in my life that I'm not to worried about it, and that those things that I did find with painful memories attached seem to have separated themselves from their original power. The biggest issue is that I've lived for so long without the "stuff" that I'm not really sure what to do with it all...I found myself a lot less attached to things that I held very scared just two years ago. Part of me is tempted to box them up and send them to the attic to sit until nostalgia strikes me one day, but then again...why prolong the inevitable. In living without my belongings I've grown a lot less attached to the material things, with the exception of a few items that I've missed greatly. I suppose it could be said that my identity is no longer entwined with my possessions; a good place to be I think.
For now, I suppose I will go through things and unless there is an instant pull to a particular item, I'll separate it into another box to decide it's fate later in the summer. It does feel weird though, anticipating what's in each box, and what emotions will spring out at me.
Beyond boxes, things are amazing. I've started my new job and it's a challenging one, which is a nice switch from where I've been in the past. It's not that I'm doing work that is particularly difficult for me, but there is a learning curve on this one. The challenges of working within this particular population will have to have a post of it's own. I know that I'll excel and it's nice (if that's the right word) to have to really push myself and my own fears/bias some. I have a big job ahead of me and a really great chance to prove that this field is where I belong, but I'm going to have to work for it.
Living with the Cowboy is great, we made it over the 72 hour window with no hitch. *If you know anything about my life for the last three two and a half years you'll know why that window was dreaded. I'm enjoying nesting and finding a rhythm. I've scored uber big points with her parents and the rewards of that can't even be expressed sufficiently.
I'm happy where I am in my life. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I'm home...I can't ask for anything more right now.
I finally had a few moments last night where I could start to tackle the boxes that I brought down from D.C. I packed them two years ago, headed for a life much different in scope (but much the same in intention) than where I find myself today. Opening those boxes was more build up than anything. In truth, I was surprised that things didn't hit me harder than they did. I didn't get very far because of the late hour, only four boxes, and I haven't hit the mother-load, the box with all the memories. I suppose that it says something about where I am in my life that I'm not to worried about it, and that those things that I did find with painful memories attached seem to have separated themselves from their original power. The biggest issue is that I've lived for so long without the "stuff" that I'm not really sure what to do with it all...I found myself a lot less attached to things that I held very scared just two years ago. Part of me is tempted to box them up and send them to the attic to sit until nostalgia strikes me one day, but then again...why prolong the inevitable. In living without my belongings I've grown a lot less attached to the material things, with the exception of a few items that I've missed greatly. I suppose it could be said that my identity is no longer entwined with my possessions; a good place to be I think.
For now, I suppose I will go through things and unless there is an instant pull to a particular item, I'll separate it into another box to decide it's fate later in the summer. It does feel weird though, anticipating what's in each box, and what emotions will spring out at me.
Beyond boxes, things are amazing. I've started my new job and it's a challenging one, which is a nice switch from where I've been in the past. It's not that I'm doing work that is particularly difficult for me, but there is a learning curve on this one. The challenges of working within this particular population will have to have a post of it's own. I know that I'll excel and it's nice (if that's the right word) to have to really push myself and my own fears/bias some. I have a big job ahead of me and a really great chance to prove that this field is where I belong, but I'm going to have to work for it.
Living with the Cowboy is great, we made it over the 72 hour window with no hitch. *If you know anything about my life for the last three two and a half years you'll know why that window was dreaded. I'm enjoying nesting and finding a rhythm. I've scored uber big points with her parents and the rewards of that can't even be expressed sufficiently.
I'm happy where I am in my life. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I'm home...I can't ask for anything more right now.