I’ve been pushing with all my might since October 5th and I can claim many little victories: The kitchen is now mine. The living room is now mine. The closets – all except for the big scary one - are all mine. But the house is a wreck with piles of stuff. I have one pile of stuff that’s the Keep This Forever stack (that pile is filled with emotional land mines and prickly pear.) Another pile is the eBay pile. Another pile is the Give To Others pile. (The process of distributing those gifts will be all kinds of fun.)(By the way, that was extreme sarcasm, just in case it wasn’t clear.) Despite the enormous emotional effort, I feel like all I’ve managed to do is shuffle stuff around while making a complete mess of my house.
And everything has come to a complete stop.
My faithful helper texted me Monday to ask if I wanted to make another big push forward this weekend. My heart went cold. I didn’t even respond at first. I feel like I’ve hit a wall. Go figure. The last big push I made three weeks ago left me a slobbering mess of a man. It was the hardest of all by far, except, possibly for that first big step. Now I fear I lack the resolve to push through to the finish, the last big push: to clear out our closet.
I dismissed my helper’s request with an honest self-assessment of my timidity: I’m seriously rattled from our last bit of work and need some recovery time. But yet I feel I must continue. This process is just simply unforgiving. I get weaker with each step I take yet I know that that despite the pain, this is the right path.
For now, like a climber’s respite at the butt of the final summit, I’ve paused, out of breath, out of energy, and out of motivation. But where my wind, muscles and drive fail me, my devotion will not. I am devoted to the pursuit of a life that would make Maggie proud. She’s worth that. And so am I. While I may rest for just a bit, I will not stop my progress.
(Damn this is hard.)