Bundle of Frayed Nerves

I’m into the thick of making my move across the state happen.

I think I could chew through concrete right now.

I feel sick and scared.

Faith is easy to profess. It’s not so easy to actually have faith when under pressure.

I’m terrified and tense.

Faith and fear don’t coexist. At the moment fear is trying really hard to get the upper hand. I want to crawl back into my comfortable hole and forget the whole thing. I don’t need to go to school. I can stay right here my whole life. When I can’t handle ignoring the longing in my heart I’ll just go back to the bottle and the bong.

Oh. Um. Well. Never mind.

As part of packing and cleaning I found the double-ziplock of smashed glass that used to be my pipe collection. It’s in the dumpster now. I had smashed them to smithereens as insurance against myself but I hadn’t been able to actually throw them away.

There’s a lot of letting go that has to happen with this move. I’ve hauled two full car loads of things to donate at my favorite charity-supporting thrift store. There’s another half a load ready to take.`I’ve sent truck loads of plants and pots and associated tools with a friend who can use them. I’m not good at letting go.

I’ll be leaving two of my cats behind. They are country cats will be miserable in the city. I miss them already. It’s one of the most heartbreaking decisions I’ve ever made. I know it is best for them. That doesn’t help me feel any better about it. I hate saying good bye.

I want someone strong to lean on. I want to have someone to discuss my decisions with. I need help. There’s almost no way I can manage to get everything done. I’m so tired and so wired I can’t sleep. My back aches and my feet are cracked and sore and my brain hurts. I want to be comforted and held and told it will all be OK.

That’s not my life right now. My life here and now is trying to keep swimming no matter what. So far I haven’t snapped at anyone or lost my cool. But it’s a thin, tense cool. I feel like I’m one step away from becoming a pressure cooker with the valve suddenly pulled off.

Faith. Keep breathing and have faith.

I think I was calmer about giving birth than I am about this move.

I’m also really excited. I can’t wait to be on campus for school. I’ve found a house I like right by a nice elementary school. I’ve already got a few old friends in my new city and I’ve started making a few new ones. I know I need to do this.

I want to cuss and swear and bite and punch and scream. Feelings. Yuck. Gross. Get them off. Is there soap to scrub out feelings?

I’m moving somewhere 100 times bigger than my current unincorporated statistical census area. I’ll be 200 miles from my little house by the ditch bank. I’ll be short two cats. I’ll be adjusting to a new school while trying to get my kids adjusted to their new school.

The pace of life and the decision-making being demanded of me is overwhelming. I want to cry. I want to feel safe and secure and supported.

The details of making this happen are mind boggling.

Breathe. Have faith. Breathe.

I’ve never found faith to be a safe feeling. Faith is the dead opposite of safety. I am taking a 200 mile leap of faith of and praying I land on my feet without too many bruises when it’s done. There are a great many things I have no control over in this. I just have to trust that it will all work out OK, somehow.

I’m a little short on trust. I have a friend who has this beautiful faith I find myself really envying. I don’t have that kind of faith. My faith is more like, “I believe! Help me with my unbelief,” dropped into a blender and pureed with with the insane love of a woman cleansed of seven demons. My heart and my soul are sure that it really is possible to walk on water. My mind wants to fill the sea with cement before venturing off the shore.

Sometimes I think that faith only grows when we stretch it thin and try, just a little, to see if it breaks. So far I’ve survived everything life as ever dealt me. I’ve even managed to thrive and love. I know that I’ve seen my metaphorical lion’s den and walked out unburned.

This kind of growth hurts. My head hurts and my heart hurts. I need an IV drip for a boost of faith and strength. Mine aren’t so good right now.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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