Saturday, August 27, 2011

Engaging the Mind (8.12.11)

After many days of hard work packing our house up, then loading the truck, driving for 10 hours with two adults, two kids, an 80 pound dog, and a packed van, I was just plain tired. Too tired to think. Too tired to process all that had happened. My lists had been completed. Everything that needed to be accomplished before we pulled out of town had been and now my mind was left to churn. 
   
During the first few days in Connecticut, I was unsettled. I cried easily and at the most unexpected things. For instance, I was standing at the counter in the local post office registering us for a PO Box. While filling out the form, I had to officially change our address. Duhh! That’s why I was there...but this hit me hard. Right there, in front of the lady that would sort my mail for the next chapter in my life, I lost it. Laughing as I think about it now, I tried to cover up my face with the sun-is-in-my-face-so-I-turn-my-hand-into-a-lame-visor move. I didn’t think she noticed my volcanic emotions until she asked why on earth we would move from lovely Virginia to here! (Spoken with a stinky face and all!) I couldn’t even speak thanks to the knot in my throat the size of basketball. What did she think my reason was? What would cause some random woman to start crying in the post office? Was I running from someone? Had I obtained a new identity and sad for the loss of my old one? I wanted to talk, but that basketball just wouldn’t dislodge. I had just moved myself to Connecticut. (Again, duhh! Where had I been for the last 4 laborious days??) However, something about officially changing my address and forwarding all mail from Farmville made this more permanent in my mind. This moment was life changing. Right there in front of my new mail lady. Nice. Priceless. 

So, what did I learn from this scenario? There are things inside my head and heart that have been forced to be put on hold, but must come out. Whether it’s to the mail lady in Chaplin, CT or to my husband late a night in a tent. Eventually I have to think about it, or who knows who will be my next meltdown observant. It might be you! 

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