My friend said ‘We’re still on for Tuesday, right?’ Wait. What’s Tuesday? ‘We’re having lunch.’ Oh yeah, right, lunch Tuesday. Definitely. What a flake I’ve become. Maybe I’ve always been flakey but the mysterious blank spaces in my mind are becoming more and more apparent as our move draws near. Our family calendar is so crammed full of activities, even with written and electronic calendars which help tremendously, I can’t keep everything committed to memory. I was supposed to walk with a friend last night during our son’s soccer practice. Nope, didn’t remember and committed to packing with my husband. I’m not even focusing on and selecting the fun stuff. I chose work over fun. Something is seriously wrong with me.
Perfect timing. Just what I need for this move is a mental breakdown. No joking around, I’m concerned. Yet I question it too. Why am I forgetting the fun stuff? Why am I not forgetting the work stuff? Why am I not shirking my move responsibilities? Why am I meeting my family’s needs? Why is the laundry getting done?
Oh. Dear. God. I’ve crossed the line. I’ve reached the point where I’m so focused on the move and on work that both have totally consumed me. There is no room left in my brain for fun. EEK! I should run away. Fast.
Don’t get me wrong, I am having fun, too much fun, and I’m having fun having fun. In fact, I am having more fun on a daily basis in the past few weeks than I have had in many months, if not years. Almost every day includes a social event. On a regular basis, I’m social. I socialize. But I don’t socialize daily. Let’s remember who I am – I’m on a first name basis with the local librarian! I’m a bibliophile! I sew. I cook. I garden. I like getting massages and pedicures. My hair needs to be cut! Fun is taxing and I miss my projects. My projects kept me organized and on task. Without my projects, I am lost.
My mind is not lost. My life is lost. Don’t misread my writing. I love going out with my friends. We have had good times, great laughs and I will miss them dearly. With my life packed into 122 boxes and counting, I can not go on much longer sorting, pitching, donating, keeping, wrapping, packing, taping, boxing and stacking my life. The good, yet sad news is that I don’t have too much longer. Only 7 days remain. One week.
I’m in survival mode now. What would Bear Grills do in a time like this? He’d probably eat our pets and make clothing, furniture and shelter out of the packing materials so I won’t follow his lead. What I need is my friends. What I need, to paraphrase Bill Withers “Lean On Me” lyrics, is to let me lean on you, because I’m not strong. I need you to be my friend and help me carry on.
This isn’t a cry for help. It is a plea to my friends for understanding and compassion for my flakiness and general brain meltdown as we are in the final stretch.