Bit by bit my worldly belongings are getting packed. What a chore. At times, it's a pleasure in the way that taking inventory can be fun...or at least a helpful exercise. No snark...I mean that. But...I'm so, so tired. And my joints hurt. And my tummy doesn't feel good. And my back aches.
It's hard to assess whether there's something really wrong with me physically (hello, health anxiety, I honestly don't need to visit with you right now!!) or if I'm so good at shelving my emotions that my energy burns away doing so.
Within the month I should be relocated to my new home. I actually kind of miss it, after bonding during my short stay last month. At the same time, I'm deeply, deeply saddened about leaving this place, for complex and profound reasons. There's a whole lotta *stuff* that I have had to put in the closet (so to speak) for the time being, in order to move through this process in a copacetic way.
The process of packing is incredibly labor intensive. I have the good fortune to be able to pick out what is really meaningful, and/or useful to me, which is a plus. I'm finding that I'm whittling away some things, which is also good. The things I'm bringing have significance and I look forward to carefully placing them in their new environs.
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