Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Exhausted and Wound Up.

I'm completely exhausted. My body is shouting at me to stop moving.

My brain isn't having anything to do with that idea.

There are a thousand things running through my head, packing that has to be done, the thousand and one errands that must be accomplished. The process of settling into the new place. The slight shortage of able bodies to carry furniture on the weekend.

I'm making myself stop for a few minutes. Just sit, check emails, watch a bit of M*A*S*H*, play a game on my laptop for a minute.

Then I'll head back to bedroom, pack a bit more and eventually go to bed.

I'm praying for a quiet mind and heart as I fall asleep tonight... and for the ability to sleep in the midst of everything going on.

On My Mind...

It is my prayer that as I continue to journey through life, my body will learn that it doesn't need to freak out every time we come up against a week or two that are more stressful than normal. Because my body freaking out doesn't exactly reduce the stress level if you know what I mean.

I'm thankful these days that I can recognize many of the symptoms as stress reactions, and ignore them as much as possible. That I can remind myself that this is how my body tends to respond to stress. (These days that is meaning that I'm forcing myself to eat inspite of a dramatically decreased appetite, and a certain degree of nausea.)

I'm still fighting off the terrible cold that kept me home in bed for most of the day on Monday. The sore throat lingers, and the sneezing and constant nose blowing are enough to drive a person batty.

I'm not sleeping properly again (so what else is new when I'm stressed), and the neck and shoulder problems I aggravated about three weeks back are still causing daily headaches.

And yet, somehow, today, I'm coping.

We take possession of our new apartment tonight, and will take the first load of boxes over. We'll also likely take a load or two of boxes tomorrow night, doing everything we can to minimize the amount of loads and moving required for the major move on Saturday, when all of our furniture will move to the new house, and we'll officially be living there.

Unfortunately, because of the debacle with my internet/telephone/television provider that I mentioned on Monday (and let me just say it again, in case you missed it - DON'T EVER get Telus TV), we won't have telephone or internet access in our new home until Wednesday, July 1st. A fact I find incredibly frustrating due to the nature of my conversation with Telus on Monday, but hey... It's only four or five days, right? (Is it terrible that I'm hoping I can pick up an open wireless signal somewhere in our building? If not, I'll likely be making the occasional evening trip to Starbucks to keep up on my emails.)

Tonight I'll also be making a trip to the library (my roommate has books to return) and to the bank, and to some sort of store (any store really) to pick up a roll or two of packing tape. Oh, and after we take a load of boxes and stuff over to the new place, I'll also be spending a bit of time progressing on the packing in our old place.

I'm not actually stressed about the process of moving. At the moment I'm feeling like we have that well in hand. I think I'm simply reacting to the stress of transition. I think I've told this story here before, but I had an adventure-loving friend once ask me, "Don't you ever just feel like you have to get out of your comfort zone?" My answer? A resounding, "NO!" Usually, many months after the transition, I begin to be grateful for it. But mostly, I'm not a fan. I like a pretty staid, boring, routine life. It makes me happy. And so, last night, I was awake much of the night, with the thoughts of transition running through my head.

Like I said, these days I'm thankful that I can recognize the fears and lies. That I can identify them. And I'm praying for the day when they simply won't be there anymore.

From Henri again...

continuing some of the thoughts from Henri Nouwen that I've shared the last few days...

Flesh Become Word

The word must become flesh, but the flesh also must become word. It is not enough for us, as human beings, just to live. We also must give words to what we are living. If we do not speak what we are living, our lives lose their vitality and creativity. When we see a beautiful view, we search for words to express what we are seeing. When we meet a caring person, we want to speak about that meeting. When we are sorrowful or in great pain, we need to talk about it. When we are surprised by joy, we want to announce it!

Through the word, we appropriate and internalize what we are living. The word makes our experience truly human.