slip-sliding away…..

I’m exhausted – mentally, which filters to the physical, too. “Drained” is an appropriate word.

At work, I just finished off this massive event – hosting a function for almost 60 people (in person again, after a 3-year break). And then there’s also a constant barrage of tasks and requests (though less intense now that the event is over), which I hope will settle down as we approach year-end.

The main cause of my quagmire, though, is the previously mentioned move of homes. We’re doing building work at the new place, which comes with an endless stream of decisions to make, obstacles to overcome, keeping track of progress, and seeing to the many, many, many things that need to be done in order for the place to be ready to move in on a tight deadline. While much of the burden is now shared with others (lately – it wasn’t like that in the beginning), it still weighs heavily on me, because these are all mental balls I need to juggle and prioritise and organise.

Added to that is the task of selling our current home, a place so beloved to me, but which – months ago – I accepted I would lose. I think I went through the emotional stages of separation in recent months, because now, I’m just eager to get it done. I’m not excited about the new place (yet – at the moment, it’s just a mountain of work and related admin, so it’s hard to see it in a promising light), but I’m not so sad about losing this home. Maybe I’ll feel it when we’re all cleared out, and I lock up for the last time. When I finally leave what’s been my sanctuary for over 12 years (within a complex that’s been home for almost 15).

For now, I just want things done. I want it all over with.

In the last week, I showed the place to three sets of potential buyers so far, plus one agent. I feel like a salesman, trying to talk up the highlights of this home. And, in my imagination, I wonder if this home feels betrayed. Betrayed that, after all the times we’ve had, I’m disposing of it. As if it means nothing to me other than another task on an endless to-do list. If I had the time and mental and emotional space, I would probably attempt a poem along those lines.

But those are not luxuries I have right now. My last poem, on my birthday a few days ago, came rather unexpectedly…I didn’t think I’d have the ability or opportunity to write anything creative for many months to come.

On top of that, there are many deliveries coming – both for the house and normal shopping (which is more than usual, of late).

And I need to be in frequent contact with various people related to the business of renovating a house and selling another. For an introvert, too much contact can be draining, so I suppose that’s another factor in all of this.

To add more to the mix, I’m trying to move forward on the book I plan to publish in February / March next year (God-willing). That book has been in the works for most of this year, and I’ve taken a long break in recent months. But I’m at the stage where I need a sample print, before the January / February burst of trying to get the final print batch done, and publishing the e-book. Not to mention marketing…which is the most dreaded of all steps in the publishing process.

The days have grown longer, now that Summer is almost here in my part of the world. Summer is usually the most tiring season for me, because, even when the kids still have school, they simply don’t sleep early enough. Their sleep cycles often mirror the natural rhythms of the seasons, which makes Winter my favourite, and Summer my worst.

Physically, I’ve not been able to exercise much lately either. In recent years, I was able to establish a very consistent routine – which I think has been essential to both mental and physical balance. But the house comes first, in these crazy days (and nights).

I’ve not even been able to spend significant quality time with the kids, because of the sheer volume and urgency of house-related tasks. I wanted my birthday to be a day spent with them – doing what they wanted. But, of course, those plans were swallowed up by everything else. And that saddened me. It really did. Because this whole process of a new home has not been happy for them, either, so far. They only see the work we’ve been doing. The time we can’t spend with them. The lack of fun…the activities they can’t partake in because we have to focus on the house.

So, if all of this sits on my mind and heart and it’s so heavy, how do I even have time for this post? And why am I writing this? Is this simply a cathartic release in writing? A rant of ingratitude telling you how tough things are?

No. That isn’t the intention.

Instead, I write this because this blog has been my online home for over 16 years, and I’ve usually documented the major events of my life here – whether in prose or poetry. In this – what feels like the most intense few weeks I’ve ever lived through – I feel it’s important to capture my state of being in words, in a place where I can look back at it in future and smile. Smile at the memory of how heavy it was in that crazy Summer of 2022…and (hopefully) be even more grateful at what I have at that future point, because I know that all the madness was not in vain: that it was all building up to (what I hope will be) a comfortable new sanctuary.

And, just as I was preparing to wrap up this piece, fittingly, an email arrived bringing with it yet more house-related work.

Duty calls…