I find myself on the floor, in the fetal position, alarmingly often these days. Much has happened in the last several years, and honestly, I haven’t felt able to really communicate it, either here or to friends, let alone to family. It’s as if I am paralysed by something, the words stopping before they can fully form and trickle down my fingers to the keyboard.
But now I am at an ending. I am packing up my home, the one I have lived in for the last 5 years, and moving to the other end of the country. I am packing up my treasures.
I am packing up the lie of a joined life I have lived for over half a decade. I am realising, in packing, how separate, how alone, I have been, living with the human I thought the world of.
I am packing up the ashes of the pets I have lost. Their mementos. A halter here, a collar there. That chair that my old cat vomited on so many times I just gave up and put a sheepskin down.
And now I am at a beginning. I am moving into my own home, one I will share with no other human, for the first time in my life. I am moving into a rural environment, where I see naught but paddocks out my windows, for the first time in my life. I am moving to a new city because I want to move there, for the first time in my life.
All beginnings begin with an ending. I am mourning the ending so that I may fully embrace the beginning.
Walk to Wellness 