This week the sun came out. For some people, this would be good news. For most people here, this is a godsend because people become depressed by the constant rain and gray skies. I, however, don’t find the same reassurance from the sun these days. It makes everything feel that much more urgent. Somehow the fog and the gloom soothe me. They slow things down.
It’s not just the sun that has me full of nerves this week though. All week long, I have been engaged in this tug-of-war between hope and panic. On Thursday, this all came to a head because my lovely, talented, brilliant J was offered a job near our new city, and she took it. I am so very proud of her, so excited that this is really going to happen for us, but I’m terrified all the same.
She starts work on the first of February–just thirteen days away. We don’t yet have a place to live; we haven’t even been packing. We have seven years worth of crap to deal with, and it’s more than a little overwhelming. Today we’ll get started on disposing of clothing donations, clearing out our garage, and such, but my head is simply swimming with this weird panic and mayhem and anxiety and craziness. It’s too much for me right now. I want to burrow under the covers, curl up into a little ball, and tell someone else to do it.