I think the hardest thing about this whole effort is the complete thrashing all of our expectations have taken since we started. We didn't count on the real estate market floundering this summer. Our house here hasn't yet sold despite frequent walk-throughs (we were so confident it would be gone within weeks). Then every farm we looked at and contemplated purchasing up and sold within days, leaving the pickings very slim.
Now we are living in the dreaded "Tween" stage: tween house and home, tween retired uselessness and farm-life busyness.
The 'tween' stage is fraught with stress. Our current house must be kept in model mode with certain behaviors absolutely forbidden (no cooking fish, no spreading out paperwork to ponder for a few days, etc.) and at least 90% of our beloved belongings are in storage. Because we are generally only given a 15 minute notice before people arrive to look at the house, we are not even comfortable having company over.
Without a new farm on the horizon, I can't lavish my new-found time on planning a garden space, designing a chicken coop, planning an orchard or pondering how many goats I might fit on the spot Joe will allow me to have. I've been learning about these things, but it's not the same when there's no 'real' space where you can envision your plans happening.
The "tween" stage is heck.
On top of all this, the reality of being 'retired' is hitting. I suspected that motivating myself would be tough, but it's tougher than I suspected. The fact is I feel a bit . . . worthless. I never imagined that.
My house doesn't need me after my initial run-through clean-up every morning, it stays boringly perfect.
My son is off to school via Joe's sacrificial early-rising taxi service and he isn't in much need of me these days even when he's home (high schoolers rarely need their mommy).
I'm bored reading books already, although I still gather them frantically around me for comfort (my library card has taken a beating).
My craft stuff is in storage and I daren't mess up the place doing them anyway.
My desire to write has become smaller the more time I have to indulge it.
I don't like shopping and I don't want to buy more stuff just to move it someday or pack it into storage now.
I'm not an avid movie goer nor a tv watcher.
What I am is truly pathetic.
This started as Joe's dream. It has become our hope of salvation from retirement. I'm looking forward to having goals outside my house again even if that means just outside the back door. Decorating a new place will be great and I have dreamed of taking walks on our new property with incredible longing.
I've been pulling my heart away from our house here for months knowing we will eventually be leaving (and I love this house). I painfully let go of the dream of a beach house when we decided to pursue a farm. And still all of that would be alright if there were a farm home to which I could anchor my heart. I know it sounds rediculous, but this 'tween' state is agonizing.
I'm not losing hair (yet) but it's turning very gray fast. My stomach is not happy about anything I eat.
It's possible we'll be here until next spring when the house market may take a little jump, as it traditionally does, and our house finally sells. More people will be listing places then as well and maybe our farm will finally hit the market. But spring feels like a long time away to continue living in the 'tween' state. Please tell me God is more merciful than that.
Until things begin moving, however we will abstain from fish, excessive holiday decorations, and too many guest to clear out in 15 minutes.
And if I get too bored I'll volunteer some place, even if it's just shelving books at the library. Then I at least won't have to check out so many books to feel comforted.
1 comment:
Great work.
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