As excited as I am about our new house, I get a little sad when I think of all the things that I've neglected. . . exercise, sleep, seeing friends more, reading, relaxing, reflecting. Having the house is wonderful, but it's just one piece of my life, and I'm ready to have the rest of my life back. I miss the Sundays that Dan and I would spend doing nothing but reading and drinking coffee. I miss the evenings when dinner was something we could sit and enjoy together instead of something we often rush through. I miss volunteering, and going to festivals, and lazy afternoons.
As I sometimes have to remind myself, my work on the house is a choice. If I wanted, I could choose to let the house go for a time and get my focus back to other things. I've done that to an extent (Dan and I have gotten too tired for all house, all the time), but in my mind, so much relies on a calm, peaceful, put-together house. It's difficult for me to look at the chaos around us and just ignore it. From the Myers-Briggs perspective, I am a solid J. Things get done. Lists get crossed off. I do not like loose ends. And I certainly do not like unpacked rooms, unpainted walls, and general mess.
One of my goals in the last year or so has been to make more space in my life for spirituality, reflection, and personal growth. I can get so bogged down in the "to do"s that sometimes I worry I am missing my life. I'm trying to learn to be more flexible, contemplative, and aware and to make sure the things filling my time are those that are most important to me. Prior to our house closing, I had started to do some regular meditations and to work on cultivating more awareness. I was spending more time outside, getting better at doing nothing, and finding some creative outlets. I feel as though, in the last few months, a lot of that has been lost.
I know that, eventually, things will settle down and I will find a new equilibrium. But until some of the "to do"s get crossed off of our house list, there is a part of me just waiting in the wings hoping to make a reappearance. I'm trying to find ways here and there to give her some stage room--taking afternoons off, making trips to the bookstore, and hopefully scheduling in a hike when fall really moves in--but I know that she'll be mostly absent for a while. Over the last few years, my search to find her has not been easy. I worry a little bit that, once the dust settles, I'm going to have a hard time finding her again.
