Saturday, July 14, 2018

A Tale of Two Cities (And the Chaos In Between)

We bought a house. 4 months ago. We are supposed to be moving. Should already be moved. Rented a Penske truck and took a huge load over the second weekend after we closed. Nothing since.

I'm still here in Winter Haven, while my husband stays in the new house 2 hours away in Vero Beach during the week, and commutes back here on the weekends.

This is no way to live.

We're now paying rent here, rent on 3 storage units (one hundreds of miles away in Oxford MS) and mortgage payments.

I don't have a job.

There are complications. Roy thought he'd get to a place in his new job where he could take a week off. That's not happening. And, he's taking on a consulting job in addition.

We have a Mama cat with 3 babies living on our back patio. Roy wants me to find homes for all of them.

To pack more than I have already means living without essential items. I've already had to buy a new casserole dish and Tupperware bowls because the perfectly good ones I own are somewhere in boxes.

I can't do this by myself and I am overwhelmed and paralyzed. I start trying to sort through my craft/junk room every week and end up distracting myself and making wreaths.

Then, to make things that much worse, I realize I'm going to need something for my new craft room, or those wreath supplies just went on sale, and I need to restock, and I buy even more stuff. To pack up and move.

What is wrong with me? Y'all know, this is not a good place for a normal person to be, much less an alcoholic. I just want it to go away. I want it to be over already. I want a normal, sane life. I want to be productive and motivated.

Feeling like this makes me want to numb out, and that's where it gets really scary. If I had pills, I'd probably be popping them. So, good thing I don't.

And it's a good thing that God still shows up. Every day.