A Life Decluttered: Living in Limbo
Summer came a-knocking, but not before my man and I had a rather haphazard spring. Our house sold… but the closing was delayed four times before we actually sealed the deal, moved out and deposited that check. As a result, the packing? A months long process. First I packed the nonessentials. With the next delay, I packed the winter clothes and coats… With the next delay, I packed the rarely-used kitchen items… By the end, we were living with one set of silverware, a cast iron skillet, a pot and paper plates from cookouts long gone by.
Always in the back of my head, two opposing thoughts wrestled for attention: 1) the sale would fall through, we’d have to put the house back on the market, and I’d have to unpack and restage (i.e. hassle and a half); OR 2) everything would work out, just not on my timeline.
#2 won out. As it often does. Life has a way of working out, but never on my timeline. Through the experience of constant uncertainty, I (re)learned several valuable life lessons. So if you don’t mind, allow me to share…
It's all about perspective. At the end of the day, we had a roof over our head regardless of the outcome. That’s a tic off the ol’ gratitude list that I often take for granted. Taking it a step further – we are both healthy and taken care of. It wasn’t like we were living in limbo awaiting a life-threatening diagnosis. Gratitude always changes the scenario. I used to get really wrapped up in the hassles of life. And sometimes, if I don’t put gratitude front and center, the hassles stress me out all over again. But they are just a part of it all. I can’t avoid them. No one can. In this situation I think that everyone who's sold a house, has a story to tell. It’s always messy. So we were not the exception, but rather the rule.
Gratitude goes hand in hand with the next lesson the closing taught me. A positive attitude goes a long way. Towards the end, my man noted that it was as if we were camping in our old house those last few weeks. (With our bed long broken down and leaning against the wall, our mattress lay on the floor. Yep. We were camping.) The idea alone brought some fun to the situation. And speaking of camping -- it is amazing what delish meals you can make with one cast iron skillet and a set of silverware. And in case you are wondering, a spoon and fork can sub for a set of tongs quite well. We found the fun where we could.
Next up: A serene space evolves as changes arise. Have you ever hung out in a half-packed house? It doesn’t usually connote serenity. The uncertainty was enough chaos to live with so early on, I established one room for all packed boxes, instead of leaving them all over the house. That way, sure the house felt sparse, but I could walk through it. Entering the house, I wasn’t met with boxes – half-packed with odds and ends strewn about – and therefore my blood pressure didn't rise. Confining the chaos to one room helped immensely. Towards the end, my serene space became my mattress. Seriously. I never stopped making it, despite it living on the floor. I couldn’t get to my desk due to all the boxes, but I was on deadline for a rewrite. So my bed became my office. I made it work.
Sitting on my mattress, finishing that draft, I was reminded of a card I got this last Christmas. A friend of mine from college (who reads my blog, bless her!) sent me her family photo – and whoa, the woman has FIVE sons. In her card, she told me how she looks at her desk fondly as her serene space. It’s always tidy and organized. It’s her space, untouched by her handsome tribe of sons. A serene space – I redefine it at every turn in my life. And even when chaos hits – or ESPECIALLY when chaos hits – I owe it to myself to find the space that will add calm to my life, not detract from it.
