We've moved in to my parent's place. Oddly, my car keeps driving me to my townhome!
It doesn't quite feel like ours yet. Living out of boxes, going from 1500 square feet to about 700.
Downsizing.
Good stuff: we're on one level. Luther can roll right out the back door and be outside. Saving some money. Parents right upstairs if we need help.
Not so good stuff: See above, the part about going to 700 square feet.
I haven't written much because I'd say I've had no time. Really though, I have no thoughts in my head. I head out to therapy in a couple hours; there's always a feeling of dread because I have nothing to say. Funny though, I always find a zillion things to say.
Just wanted to check in. Sometimes I come to this blog page and it's easy to write. Other times, like today, it feels like therapy: nothing to say, brain shut down. I looked at that picture above and it feels like my brain. Actually, it looks like my new space! To calm the chaos, I turn everything off. Feelings. Heart. Planning. I know this isn't good. It isn't dealing with the issues that shut me down. That's what therapy is for - to help figure out chaos aversion. Turning in to a robot isn't helpful.
This is really a random post and doesn't feel very illuminating. Must everything be insightful? Thoughtful? Therapeutic? Geez, that feels so tiring. Sometime a nap is more helpful. Or is that robot behavior?
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