This weekend I was out with friends and dropped my phone, yet again. "I think I might be stressed" I mentioned. They all seemed to agree that yes I was stressed. I guess it is to be expected. We are moving in less than three weeks. But I haven't really thought of it as being a stressful move. We move a lot. This will be our 11th move in 14 years of marriage. I am good at moving, especially the kind of move that involves professional packers and hotels while the moving van is being loaded and unloaded by someone else.
Things have all lined up perfectly. So I didn't think I was stressed. But then I kept dropping my cell phone. I forgot things I would normally remember. I am able to fall asleep but often wake up in the middle of the night or early the next morning and cannot go back to sleep. And then yesterday I went to grab the ketchup out of the refrigerator for Little One's corn dog but ended up grabbing the milk instead and pouring that on the plate.
So yes, I guess I am stressed. It is frustrating to have my body betraying a stress I don't intellectually feel. But my body feels it. I guess it is part of the process, part of the letting go and moving on process. Sort of like by the time you get to the 9th month of pregnancy you are willing to endure anything to get that baby out. The stress of moving is causing part of me to want to get this show on the road. Because as much as I do not want to say goodbye, I am really looking forward to the first morning I am sleeping in my own bed in our new house. When I can finally sleep. When I am not trying to squeeze in one more play date, one more dinner, one more hour, one more minute with dear friends.
I am not ready to say goodbye, yet. I just might need a little extra grace from those around me in the next two weeks. And possibly a new cell phone.