The apartment is beginning to empty out, but it is slow and tedious progress. We had a going away party this weekend, followed by an apartment sale. The former only unburdened us of a couple presents for friends we will dearly miss, but the latter had a you-touch-it-you-take-it policy in effect, so I think about half of our crap is gone.
The support of our family and our friends in this time of desperate begging for assistance and shilling of our wares is both awesome and sadly touching. It seems so terrible that our last memories (for the next couple years) of so many people will be loading their cars with our stuff. Still, I am humbled by all the people who have offered to fill boxes or buy things or give me a hug to keep me from climbing the walls.
My back has gotten significantly better, and I have been going on daily walks. I am back to packing boxes (while kneeling on the floor or bending properly!) and loading the car for daily trips to Goodwill. The only problem, and it's sort of a big one, is that I can not sit in one place for more than 20 minutes without stabbing back and hip pain. I avoid the agony by moving as much as possible, but the prospect of a 12+ hour drive to California, followed by a 12+ hour flight to Japan, leaves me worried.
I have a reference for a local chiropractor, and hopefully I can weasel in an appointment before leaving town. Bend me, snap me, slap me, tweak me...whatever it takes to make me right again. If at all possible, I hope to figure out exactly what it is I am doing to myself which has caused the time between attacking spasms to grow ever shorter. I am completely convinced that one of my legs is shorter than the other, but am also fully willing to accept that my atrocious posture is to blame. Whatever the case, I am at my wit's end, and I am desperate for answers.
The next few days are actually fairly low key. Jarrett has school and work all day on both days, so I plan to systematically fill boxes with donate-able items, and drop them off at the Goodwill. There was a point some months ago—and even a few weeks ago—when I had grand ideas about what I wanted to put into storage for the next few years. With only five whole days left in town, I find I have a complete lack of sentimentality. Also, making money off apartment sales is nice, but simply giving things away or strategically abandoning them at intersections is sounding more and more desirable.
As an indicator of both Jarrett's and my obsession with depleting our stock, the most exciting thing that has happened to us in weeks was when we drove past a liquor store and found a six-foot wall of reinforced booze boxes outside for the taking. We gleefully loaded the car, drove home our precious find, and promptly filled them with everything left in our cupboards.
We have no more plates or silverware or cups, and we eat exclusively from bags or boxes.
I feel as if I should be more stressed out than I am. However, after weeks of sickness and pain and worry, I am disturbingly calm. I just keep hearing my dad's words in the back of my head: if it's meant to be, it will all work out. I'm no fatalist and, to be honest, that was one of the platitudes which drove me nuts as a child. As an adult, I find them strangely soothing. Essentially, I can do every single thing which can be done between now and Monday. I will either finish the job or I won't, but either way, I am loading the car with what fits, and I am driving away from Portland no matter what.
I don't need to pull out my hair or cleanse the apartment with fire. I just need to take a deep breath and remember that all my dreams are coming true. I am at the exact point I have been planning for three years. I am (mostly) healthy. I have the best husband in the world, and a truly awesome family. I have great friends, and I am not completely broke. I am moving to Japan. I can honestly say that there is nowhere else I would rather be, nothing else I would rather do, than spend my days helping everything work out.
On a far more positive note than he ever intended, I keep smiling and thinking of the immortal words of George Eastman, "My work is done. Why wait?"
Hey! I just wanted to tell you that even though I'm studing 'round the clock for the bar, I've been keeping up with your blog. Best of luck through your travels and relocation process! I'm very excited for you. I can't wait to see pictures of your new place! :)
ReplyDeletegood luck in these last harried days - it's a crazy experience.
ReplyDeleteIn re: yr back etc., I used to think that one of my legs was shorter than the other. Then I discovered my hip was out of alignment. Chiropraction helped a bit, but ultimately it was shiatsu massage that provided a more permanent correction. While I can't recommend my guy (I mean, I *can*, but he's in Auckland), he studied in Japan, where I expect there are many practitioners who are awesome.
Marian: thanks so much. Best of luck with that looming test. If I know you at all (I think I do...), you will raise that bar. Or raze it. Whichever.
ReplyDeleteDoug: funnily, I kept thinking of you while I was being manipulated yesterday. For the most part, it was painless, but this morning I awoke feeling as if I had paid someone to beat the crap out of me. I will blog about it in a bit...