Some nice clouds and brilliant sun came to visit me at my new apartment yesterday, while I waited for the cable young man. Thank goodness he was late. It was such a relief to have nothing to do except wait and send emails and look around.
The kind of tired I am is like nothing I can remember experiencing before. This tired is a bone-deep discouragement. Every single thing I pack is a gesture of futility – I know I can’t keep most of it and live comfortably in my new circumstances, but there just isn’t enough time left to sift and choose. It’s exhausting to keep my body engaged in doing what my mind knows is impossible. Downsize and move 8 years of living into 20 percent of the space, in 8 weeks? I can get myself to keep moving just 5 minutes at a time – so I set my timer and work for 5 minutes. A couple of days ago, all I could manage was to work for 5 minutes, then rest for 5 minutes – so that’s what I did. It might sound unproductive but I got a lot more done that way than if I had just sat on the couch and cried.
I suppose this is what battling perfectionism looks like. It doesn’t matter what the right way to organize and pack is. It’s just as useful to continue to do everything wrong – to persist in making this huge, impossible, unmanageable mistake. As long as I keep moving.