Letting Go

Just said something ugly under my breath and (hopefully) out of earshot of Roy. I know it's wrong. I know I feel judged and that I've disappointed Roy by not having things packed and ready to go, and I'm deflecting the hurt and shame and guilt. I hate letting Roy down... But, I'm not willing to let it go yet, or even to ask God for forgiveness. Because if I do, I have to let go of my self-righteous fury and admit I'm wrong, that I messed up, that it's my fault. The anger is easier to feel and less debilitating, even energizing.

I'm so exhausted. No more than 5 hours sleep per night, and that's the top number. For a week. I stay up trying to move forward and get stuff packed and end up walking around in circles because I forget what I was doing or about to do. Until I can't anymore, finally admit defeat, and crash for a few hours, and then the whole cycle begins all over again.

I'm so tired of moving, of feeling that my life is a dress rehearsal for a play that's going to get postponed, and eventually, never open. I'm tired of feeling untethered, ungrounded, and never having a sense of permanency, of being unable to nest and make a real home, because we never know how long we'll be in one place.

When we bought this house, we thought we finally had that, and then during the actual moving process, Roy realized he'd been betrayed and walked out of his job. I didn't even want to unpack anything. 

I'm so over having ¾ of our belongings in storage, only to open boxes and totes and realize that what I'd once treasured has been ruined or is no longer something I even want.

Roy is frustrated and concerned I have a hoarding problem, and I'm beginning to think he's right. I wasn't like this when we first got married. It only started after we began moving and having to leave things in storage or sell them in moving sales. We were limited to 2000 pounds when we moved to Haiti and again when we returned.

That's when it started. That year, 2002. Roy had gone back to Haiti during Christmas, leaving me with my Mom and sisters. Lowes was having a 75% off sale after Christmas sale on all their Lemax Carol Towne villages and accessories. I couldn't help myself. Our ministry was over. Our marriage was on extremely shaky ground. We had just been unceremoniously released from our Mission Organization, and had no clear prospect of our future.

I felt abandoned. By World Team, by Roy, by our supporting churches. And I felt guilty and responsible and totally alone. I had no sense of who I was anymore, of any purpose, vision, or passion. I needed SOMETHING to make me feel like a junior Martha Stewart again.

Roy was furious. Those villages have remained stored in Action Packers for the past 18 years.

Most women have a deep instinctual need to nest, to create a home that is a safe place, a respite, a haven of warmth and welcome. We want to surround ourselves with beauty, with the things that make us aware that loveliness still exists to calm, inspire and energize us. To stir our passions, to remind us of our blessings, to foster our desire for more than ourselves, to ignite our pursuit of God and spiritual growth.

When we are happy and content, we thrive. And we are most happy and content when those around us are happy and content and love being with us. 

It shouldn't depend upon or center around what we have, or what we can acquire, but when there is continuing uncertainty and an absence of being able to call anywhere "home," it's difficult to feel grounded and purposeful. I think that's where my need to fill my physical space with "stuff" began.

This is something I've realized for a while now, but I haven't been able (willing?) to change. I may need to get some outside help to really deal with this issue. I do know for certain that I can't let it continue.