Clearing space. Starting with my wine glass.


I'm almost through purging. You would not BELIEVE what I have thrown out, given away or readied for a mid-winter garage sale. A mid-winter garage sale, people. I am dedicated. And it's like a cleansing of my soul.

Sometimes, when I first start out one of the "sessions" (and with three kids, our 2017 CSA launch and Sigel family birthday season, my purging is divided up into many, many chunks), I find myself wandering aimlessly, not knowing where to start. Do I start by sorting out all the stuff I definitely want to keep? Do I spend my energy "nesting" and finding cozy homes for all the things I want to keep? This inevitably leads to me painting something or desperately wanting a sewing machine or coning Matt into building a new cabinet (that I will insist on designing and finishing) because wherever I want it to "live" isn't finished yet. Which is obviously where I want to spend my energy. Designing space is my thing. Designing Space and Looking for Inspiration. That might be the title of my autobiography.

As I start and then stop and then find myself distracted in the another room and then remember that I'm supposed to be seriously focused and tackling this project, I feel frustrated. I feel a little lost and a lot overwhelmed. And then there I am again--struggling. It feels heavy... like, if I could just get the train moving in the right direction, I could actually chug up this damn hill. And this isn't even that big of a hill! Is it depression? I'm not ashamed to say that doses of medication and lots of yoga are the antidote to my clinically-diagnosed chemical imbalance that I battle in my brain, off-and-on every few years (that's another post, too). But I'm taking care of that right now.
Is it grief? These changes are still taking their toll on me, so don't overestimate my level of functioning when you see me around town. Considering I still haven't had Lucy's birthday party and took down decorations the night BEFORE Matt's (it wasn't even on my radar!), evidence shows that I'm lacking in my usual levels of over-functioning.

When I wander aimlessly in those rooms, or in my life, the way I bring it back is to figure out what I don't want. I have to start with the trash can. There is no other way than to clear the path and get rid of the crap I don't want or need or is broken or was a mistake to let into my house in the first place. Or all of the above. It is roll-up-your-sleeves, get on all fours, sort through every piece kind of work. Meticulous and tedious and the kind of attention to detail that no one can do but me. You know the kind. If it's not sacred, if it doesn't make me want to stop everything and play with it or wear it or cook with it; if I haven't ever used it in 10 years but keep thinking I might need it at some point; if I can't picture exactly where it will go and how I will use it in my new life, it's gone. That shit takes time, dude. And I'm committed to doing it like a boss. Which, I actually am. And since I have no job, this might as well be my best work. (that's my new joke--you don't have to feel sorry for me) (but you can) 

I don't know for sure what I am welcoming in yet or how it's all going to unfold (although, looking around the dome house, you wouldn't THINK I don't know what to welcome in... it's not exactly sparsely appointed in here). But I have to start with what needs to go. I might be done being a traditional school counselor or mental health therapist, a career that's defined me for over a decade. That's on the table. But I wrote about what I know stays in this post:

I have to feel lighter. This is my action plan. Lighter definitely means less STUFF, less BUSY-NESS, and shedding of emotional baggage. Still working on that last one. And since I often feel a little lost and a lot overwhelmed, I'm treating it one trash can at a time. God help me.