Transitioning & Cleaning & Packing

Having 12 dogs, of course, has its disadvantages. Spent time late this afternoon picking up torn cardboard boxes, feed bags, chewed up gloves & pieces of plastic to things my imagination can’t begin to fathom. All of it strewn through the yard & fields. And that does even to begin to cover all the “natural” trash/debris that covers the ground here: all the dead & dried & fallen limbs needing to be collected, put into p[iles & burned.

We are moving. Well, we are having a new home delivered to the property. Tara has sold her smaller house. The newer one will be here in less than a month.

Getting things ready for the transition is something I NEED to be a part of. I NEED it for the psychological change I know the move is already causing. Both Tara & I have moved around quite a bit. Not together. This will be our first BIG, physical move TOGETHER. Yes: the move & transition from Cleveland to Taylorsville was very significant. – Hell, it was a SHOCK. For the first time in years, I felt safe somewhere. And I was able to be open. That my head could rest, finally, & BREATHE a little more freely.

Moving from one place to another is really no big deal. As long as Tara is with me, I really don’t care. This little house, though, did something to me.

Setting up & working all the hours I do on the computer in MY SPOT has been VERY important to me. I had MY SPACE. And that means so much. I mean, I had everything I needed. Anything academic, to the most ridiculous things, like coupons for Adult Toys, taped to the cupboard doors.

Packing all that up, which I did earlier today, felt odd… like another section of a chapter is nearing its finish.

I can say that I’m tired of moving. And all I want is to look at a building/house/structure & know – just finally KNOW – I will be there for a long while. And GOOD memories, laughter, & growing will happen THERE! That I will feel secure. No more Lost & Frozen Man for me. Time for some roots. And I’m trying not to be cold during the transition, it’s just normal for me to have possessions packed away.

I know I will see those items that were packed away, today.

For so long, in so many places, I would not even accept anything that I could not carry around with me easily. Something that would not fit into a backpack, forget about it.

Now: I have treasures, again. that’s right, as of this writing, I have STUFF. Stuff that reflects my personality, as well as items that comfort me. How is this for strange: one of my therapy items is an 18-inch Machete. Usually, that ugly bastard is on the wall, to the left of me, within reaching distance.

(I wonder how many times during the day I reach over & walk around with that Machete, thinking, looking for inspiration… or, when I am uncomfortable, I’ll have in my hand, tapping the blade on my leg…)

I really wonder what the new place is going to be like.

I really wonder how much of me will change?

But I’m positive this is where I need to be.

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