I've been low-level cranky for the past several weeks. I've realized moving is traumatic and trauma is cumulative. Therefore, each move actually gets harder even when it's a positive thing. It does not get easier with time. It's just more disruption.
I am so incredibly thankful to have moved into a new home. I also don't think I am going to feel well for awhile. I accept this fact. It's part of the process. I mean, I haven't even eaten a homecooked meal at a dining room/kitchen table in over ten months. We gave our old table away to the thrift store before moving out of state.
Lately, my life has been only moving, working, and sleeping. That is not okay. I'm happy I moved, it's great to have a job, and I'm thankful I can sleep. But those three things do not make up a meaningful, enjoyable life by themselves. I need more. I want more. I deserve more.
Time to sew, time with friends, time to exercise.
I still think a little bit about what my life would be like if I was raising kids but not very often. I've created a completely new life for myself (a couple of times over!), so it's impossible to know what my life would be like as a mother. There's no value in even speculating.
I'm living the life I have, and that's what is important. My life is valid and worthwhile.
And, on that note, I am going to cook! I haven't made any meals in the new place yet, and it's time to get that good energy goin' and flowin'. It's up to me to do what I can to feel better.
