I have come to the conclusion that I am stuck. I have the best intentions to move forward and began by taking one step at a time but now I find myself immobile. I have lists of things to do, drawers to clean, cabinets to sort through and decisions to make but I can’t seem to get off the couch. I can get off the couch to go to yoga, to make a quick stop to Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods, to meet up for coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner, but I can’t get off of the couch to tackle my list.
It seems endless and even sorting through an emotional box of memorabilia doesn’t make a dent. I am completing the unseen cleaning, the insides of things that don’t take up space whether or not I have emptied of the contents. Of course there are drawers a bit too scary to open because I don’t know what I will find that will trigger a flood of tears.
There are the meaningless items that in theory are easy to dispose of; the last remaining boxes of large size Baggies my mother had bought and we had brought with us when we moved, the boxes of decorative strands of garden lights and the unneeded BBQ items from years of outdoor entertaining.
There are boxes of camping items, expired batteries, and some games saved from the days we used to play family games. There is a desk filled with office supplies, useful duplicates that most likely can be given away, and endless electronics with their accompanying power cords, speakers and mice that have to be properly recycled at a difficult to find unknown location.
I am baffled by the 40-year-old collection of tools including drills, a collection of screws, nails, hooks and boxes of cords of all kinds. I don’t know what to do with these things. I have 10 pound and 15 pound hand weights that I will never use (but I’ll keep the 5s and 8s). I’m stuck.
I’m stuck in the transition of us to me.