So far January has been a month of purging. I've brought more stuff to Goodwill since New Years than ever before. I'm the first to admit that I've been a bit manic about it. Every time I open a closet or a drawer or go downstairs to the basement, I have the urge to clear out the old and rearrange what's left. Last weekend we finally finished the basement repairs (woohoo!) and I went into a 2-day frenzy of cleaning and moving things around. I took two carloads of stuff to Goodwill and now the basement is spacious and organized--one half is a comfy guest room and the other half is Lunchboy's office. There are still a few logistical things to figure out (where to put the cat boxes?) but now being home feels much more peaceful.
Emotionally, it's been more of a struggle. My hormones are all over the place and some days I'm way up while others I'm way, way down. About 10 days ago, my best friend's mother, who is a really warm, intuitive person, did an angel card reading for me (sort of like tarot but with angels). I wasn't anticipating much but it ended up being pretty powerful and because I have a weird quirk where I'm uncomfortable crying in front of other people, I held in a lot of tears. Big mistake. All that emotion sat in me like a chest cold--seriously, that's exactly what it felt like, except it's easier to cough than it is to make yourself cry--until last night, when out of the blue it all came out in a scalding rush. Lunchboy just held me. There wasn't anything to say, except what lay at the root of it all: I'm afraid it will happen again. I'm working on letting that fear go. We're not trying again anytime soon but still. It's like a fog that no amount of meditation or positive thinking can pierce. I don't know what to do with it, except what I've been doing, which is just being and trying to fill my time with things that are fun and distracting.
I promise, I really am trying to let this go.