I’m truly negligent in my blogging abilities, but it feels inadequate to blame it all on low self-esteem as if by doing so I’ll overcome this obstacle and naturally sail from start to finish through all blog entries–or excuse myself from the process of doing so in the first place. I currently have half as many drafts as I do published posts, and WordPress would be wise to make a delete-all button for my drafts so I don’t have to cringe while reading all the words I failed to publish. Maybe this exists and I’m just too tired to look harder for it.

This weekend, I took a time-out from getting our house in order. I feel like King Ralph in his castle, and whenever I meander from room to room, I’m in some Twilight Zone episode of my life where I moved into a hotel yet brought all my own possessions with me. We bought our first house last week, and it still hasn’t fully sunk in.

I was going to write a pre-move-in post about how growing up is odd, terrifying, and occasionally exhilarating, but using the phrase “adulting” makes me shudder, and it seemed unavoidable. Also, surprise! Talking about being anxious breeds more anxiety. Now you get this post instead, which is probably better all around.

There’s a bit of a post-house buying malaise happening to my husband and I right now, which sounds like such a bourgeois predicament, but a similar thing happened during my first year of marriage (although it could have been the whole living in the South on the sun’s surface estranged from close family and friends for the first time ever), so it seems to be the result of closing a stressful chapter in one’s life while trying to determine what comes next. The whole “What do we do now?” shuffling of hands and feet and gazing around as if an answer will drop into our laps. We’re both reticent to start something equally or bigger scale at this juncture. I hope I learned my lesson from that time I got married and moved halfway across the USA at the same time, and since I no longer take Xanax, I’d say I have.

My husband pointed out yesterday that since much of our stuff is still cocooned in cardboard, it makes our daily normal activities irksome. Home ownership was a change we’d planned on making for a long time even if I had more or less given up on it happening during the last few years to save myself the agitation and depression that came with said hope. But we’ve moved 6 times in 7 years. It’s time to stay stationary for awhile.

There’s an overwhelming sense of urgency to complete all chores and home projects, and on Friday I collapsed while my body screeched that I needed to stop and stay in one spot for the remainder of the weekend. I’m not particularly a “do all the things” kind of person since my body balks on a daily basis, so taking time to practice mindfulness and re-familiarize myself with self-care practices seems wise, but I still have to look at all these cardboard boxes. The other component is that there’s only so much money to take on all these projects at a time.

The good news is that we need fewer junk drawer paraphernalia while the house only requires a few more pieces of furniture (and a full-functioning, non-leaking dishwasher which will be delivered later this week).

As we embark on this journey, I find myself turning inward more than to others. I’ve been on a rather isolated path the last year outside of Parker’s company, and to my surprise, it’s less lonely than I imagined it would be. It turns out people and interacting with them brings me less joy and is more taxing than I perceived it was in the past. Part of this is the regular visits to therapy, and the other is the introversion of growing older while living in the same body that experiences chronic illness and pain.

But overall, I’m pleased with this progress we’ve made and am trying my best to take things one step at a time and not get ahead of myself.

What am I doing today? Reading, taking a bath, and folding laundry while catching up on all the TV I’ve missed over the past few weeks while more pressing matters took the lead.

Happy Sunday, all!