A Tough Go

I'd like to think that I am a person that handles stress well.  I feel like I am someone who most often sees the big picture and therefore doesn't sweat the small stuff.  I try my best to deal with things as they come, one by one, until they they pass and when they do I don't usually have a difficult time in letting them go.  However, when multiple stresses seem to be coming right after one another, it always seems like the least significant one is the one that bites me in the ass.  And when it does... I feel the weight of not only that, but of all the recently past stressors that I thought I rid myself of.

There has been lots going on in the past couple of months and I have been dealing with it and handling it rather well until the insignificant one decided to show up last week.  Since then, I feel the weight of everything that is going on and then some.  I have been both physically and emotionally drained this past week.  Even my immune system has weakened as I have found myself with an infection.  I've been quiet and withdrawn and I've had a hard time staying positive.

One thing that I have learned is how to appreciate the process.  When it became official that I was moving, I knew that it was going to be a challenge both physically and mentally.  But I was so happy and excited and ready that I began this process about a month ago full of optimism.  Now, I feel burdened.  I know that the end of my apartment and all that it represents is coming to an end, but it feels like such a slow death.  The packing, the selling, and the memories both the traumatic and even the good have all taken its toll.

This mental hurdle is taking front and center.  This is probably the hardest and most challenging thing that I have had to do since Dale's death.  Taking care of my son, budgeting, started to date again... all things that were challenging, but this is different.  I worked so hard to not get stuck and to move on, face to the sun.  It wasn't until now that I realized how stuck I was in this apartment.  That is why it is so difficult to leave.  I'm not just moving out, I'm moving in... with a man.  There will always be ties and connections, but what is about to happen is going to sever the ties that can be broken.  This is truly moving on.

As happy as I am... As right as this is... It's still... hard.  I don't know how else to describe it.  It's so incredibly difficult.  So much so that I am at the point where I almost wish that I could just take my son and a small suitcase and leave.  Because the constant reminders of what I am leaving whether its a good memory or a bad one, both sting.  And it hurts.