August... The Transition Continues

The evolution to a more simple existence.

The apartment definitely looks more like a basement for storage then a garden level home these days. I fluctuate between grouchiness and energy. Yesterday was a grouchy day thanks to a mix of having to pay for car repairs and fatigue over the pack and move saga (pricing items for the garage sale phase now... ick). The evening improved when I took the dogs to the park to watch Patrick play tennis in his tennis league. The night was beautiful... the clouds rolled in and cooled the air. Sadie sat beside me on the park bench, and Duke at my feet with his little purple casted leg protruding out. Nice moment. One of those moments you want to have over and over again. Oh, and I had a chilled glass of wine with me at the park which also helped heal the packing annoyance.

Life as of late has been both simple and complex. The daily routine is mostly packing, sorting, pricing, putting things up for sale on Craig’s list and managing the e-mails it all generates. I'm working a lot at the psychiatric hospital. I'm greatfull for the income, but feel a little claustrophobic as I'd rather be somewhere else. Also still working at the MRI center, and picking up extra shifts at my residency clinic as a preceptor. Doesn't leave a whole lot of time to do what I really am aching to do which is spend some down time in the mountains, or walking around the city.

I'm so ready for this moving process to be done. I don't even mind so much that our apartment is empty save organized piles of stuff. I don't mind sleeping on the futon mattress on the floor of our bedroom, or living on bare essentials, or trying to be creative with meal planning so we actually use up some of our pantry stock (hmmmm rice with tomato paste and pine nuts... mmmmmm). I just had another "my time is short" reality hit yesterday, and the last thing I wanted to be doing was putting my car up for sale, agonizing about financials, or pricing washcloths. I am craving some down time in the mountains by a stream, with s’mores and a good book. Need to clean out the dust bunnies of my soul, soak in the environment because the panic is creeping in whispering "you won't be here much longer." Even my scooter ride this morning was sentiment-evoking. The air outside felt good, the wind in my hair (around the helmet). I felt free and really saw clearly the wild activity of the city. On a scooter you are hyper-aware (mostly so you don't become grill decoration on a Mac truck) of the hustle and bustle, and it energizes.

I recognize I've been keeping myself a little too busy to mask the emotions that are bubbling beneath the surface. We move in with some friends in September--the ones who will be adopting Sadie-dog when we leave for Haiti. We were hoping that living all together in the house would help Sadie with the transition to a new home and family, and help my friends with the transition into becoming new dog owners. But it all feels a little unnerving anticipating loosing our little space, the intimacy that comes from our little family together at the end of day. I get tearful anytime my silly family is all in the living room: Duke on the futon beside Patrick and I, Sadie on the floor, kitty rubbing her belly up against Sadie and meowing for attention. I'm very aware that this little scene is finite.

Funny how satisfied I've become with simple moments, with a simple environment as of late. I remember feeling really restless in my apartment last fall, ready to move out and buy a house of our own... wanting this or that "essential" item to complete a look or a function. And now I recognize just how happy I am with the very simplest of pleasures in my life: walks around the block, cuddling my furry puppies, watching the sunset from our back patio. I'm content with our simple living arrangement and the security it provides, our yard, our neighborhood. Suddenly I feel like I could live in the apartment unchanged forever, without furniture or decoration. I know it all has to do with wanting to cling to what I know, being scared of the changes ahead. But it’s crazy how fierce and strong the desire is to bring everything I love about my life in close and hold tight and not let go... as if the storm will eventually pass if we just hunker down long enough.

In the same breath, I'm getting more excited about Haiti. Of course I have a lot of anxiety about what life and job will look like, but excitment swells for the next chapter to come. I've also never felt as close to Patrick as I have in the last few months. I'm sure it has everything to do with the adventure we are getting ready to embark on, recognizing that the only constant in our life in the next few years will be each other. He is the one person who completely understands our reasons for going, shares the excitement of our future and the fear of the challenges ahead. Such a shared understanding gives me the courage to pursue such dreams that throw me out of my comfort zone, out of my support network, into the big wide scary open. Our connection has deepened, and it is palpable. We are lucky that we soon will get to do the kind of work we've dreamed of, that we'll be experiencing that hyper-awareness of all senses engaged that comes from traveling. We'll be forced to live simply, recycle more, compost and grow our own food--all stuff that I have wanted to be better at in the States, but have tended to give in to the luxury of laziness. We are lucky that we have found another who is equally excited and willing to face fears for the sake of a shared dream.

So I try to focus on these thoughts when I have my "bunker down" moments. Not everything is changing; I won't have to say good bye to all in which I find comfort. My family is a phone call away, my friends eager e-mailers, my spiritual community the prayer force for strength. My husband is my island in this storm of this change. And one firm hold to such familiar anchors will give me the courage to forge ahead.