Being intentional about re-creating my life (after 10 years of parent-care) isn’t without pain. The room pictured here was previously my father’s reading room; we are now transforming the room into our own study. All of the furniture is from my family home (moved November 2013). The books today placed in the cabinet have been re-integrated into the now from 2007 boxes recently unpacked…. Ireland 2007 we purchased prior to our last trip with mom before she became too sick to travel. Emotionally it feels dizzying processing all-at-once: the family furniture that is now ours to use, the books from a difficult chapter of life, personal letters received in the past few months, estate paperwork still to-do, personal journals from the last 10 years, along with favorite books and scrapbooks from my childhood. Having the major chapters of my life documented (thanks to my mom’s efforts to keep a scrapbook and my own journal-keeping) and present now within one room, feels very strange and museum-like. It is a blessing (how fortunate to see and read my roots) and a burden (where and how will I store this stuff?).
This project is no-where near half-way complete and I’m already fatigued from the amount of stuff we are moving, unpacking, handling, sorting, deciding upon, and finding new ways to store. This is a day I’d like to say, “I quit. Wake me up when it’s over.” For today, I will quit. I will rest. Tomorrow will be a new day.
Moving forward with a listening heart,
vision, inquiry, and action,
This post is part of the series: Transforming Trauma, Becoming Whole.
Please read “40+ Days of Desert Practice” for the series description and background.