I’m feeling completely out of whack. To the point of almost constant severe discomfort. I should (oh no the s word) probably stop trying so hard at getting back to my writing and putting so much pressure and just take walks until I am grounded again.
Since we have moved I haven’t written or been able to read hardly at all. The two things I want to be doing most. I feel completely adrift physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I know everyone says on the outside: “oh boy a lot of change at once”, but I didn’t bargain for how actually difficult this would all be.
I could probably benefit from surrendering that now is not the time to write or read and busy myself with organizing and unpacking.
Where did my adventurous up for anything self who loved changed go? I am finding now I do not love change. I did find an article this morning that is helpful. Validating.
Why it’s difficult for a highly sensitive person to move
I can’t get comfortable. Not only is it uncomfortable in my body right now due to weight gain etc, but now I’m uncomfortable in my new home. That I was supposed to be so excited about. There’s that damn word again! Grrrrr!
On top of your garden variety aesthetics and just typical HSP stuff, there are a lot of unexpected overwhelming issues occurring with the home. Mice! Smells 🙁 the bulldog has health problems and is so loud and that needs attention. I think it’s worse because it’s so hot in this house it’s causing more yeast for him.
Which issue to fix first! And no sanctuary anywhere. This house has no central so windows are open a lot, screens aren’t all in correctly so I’m eaten alive day and night by bugs. I’ll be in my bed with a mosquito snacking on me and that’s not relaxing at all. It raises my irritability to an insane level. And then I can’t sleep.
This move has been a nightmare and I need to be allowed to fucking say that without someone telling me to just be positive and grateful and look on the bright side. It’s been a god damned nightmare. From the movers, to breaking and losing our stuff, parts of my furniture still not having the shelves in them. To my wife’s father dying during our closing. Oh yes just that. Yes I’m angry he died then, yes I am. You can call me whatever you want for it. If you got up close and asked you would see the unseen. Or you can judge on face value.
I want to crawl out of my skin.
Yes I’m taking a deep breath, it’s all actually I really can do right now. Just breathe and hope this gets better sometime soon. So I can write something that “gives attention to the reader, not something that begs for it.” Oh let’s add some self shaming to the mix because that’s fun.
This house feels like the enemy right now. Everything feels like the enemy when you’re this tangled up. It is not a fun place to be in. So when you see me not writing, see me not myself…..
This is where I am.
I want to come back to me. And yet there’s nothing to go back to. It’s a new me… it’s a new everything…. it’s overwhelming.