A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away…
It is a dark time for the Rebellion. Although the Death Star has
been destroyed, Imperial troops have driven the Rebel forces from
their hidden base and pursued them across the galaxy.
Evading the dreaded Imperial Starfleet, a group of freedom fighters
led by Luke Skywalker has established a new secret base on the remote
ice world of Hoth.
The evil lord Darth Vader, obsessed with finding young Skywalker,
has dispatched thousands of remote probes into the far reaches of
space…
Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back
It has been a dark time for the rebellion these past few days.
I’ve been doing pretty well emotionally with this whole move thing – “It is what it is” and all that – but I’m also a counselor and I knew the 5 stages of grief were going to come crawling up to bite me before too long.
For the past month and more, I’ve been in full-on moving mode. Decluttering, cleaning, packing, cleaning, realtors, truck rental, long-distance apartment finding, utilities-dealing, using up the food in the freezering, two household budgeting, and so much more. I’ve been – if not happy as a clam about this move – at least in my element. I’m a planner, a to-do list shit-kicker, a woman on a mission. Padawan Learner, on the other hand, has been miserable with all the hustle and bustle of the process of this major life-changing move.
But now everything is pretty much done that we can do. The house is for sale, and we’re just waiting for someone to buy it. Life has calmed down significantly, much to PL’s relief. This weekend really hit me like a ton of bricks. Having to sit in a beautifully decorated, perfectly clean house, with nothing to do but wait made me sad. Really, really sad. Not clinically depressed, not non-functional, but sad.
So I did what had to be done last night. I grabbed my Sunday Morning Doughnut Buddy and met up with Padme Amidala and Princess Leia for drinks last night. One glass of really nice Pinot Noir and a cheese plate and all was well with the world again.


Moving sucks.
I’d rather go through labor.
I am NOT a counselor. So when we packed up and moved to Oregon in 1989, moving to a place where we knew no one and nothing… I had no idea my feelings were normal.
If I ever have to move again, at least I’ll be prepared for those emotional things…
I wish you the best of luck selling your home and getting established in a new location.
Thank you – this was a great reminder that grief isn’t restricted to events like people dying.
I have been amazed at your composure during this whole process. A crack just makes you human.
Take care. Hugs.
Thank you. I have never been able to explain to my non-bloggy people how much your companionship, especially at such times as these, can mean to me… but I know you get it.
So let me get this straight…you are not only a “to-do list shit-kicker”, but a kick-ass problem solver as well? I wanna BE you when I grow up.
This is the hardest period. Hang in there.