I’m battling. Every day finds me in tears. Not the pretty kind either.
Every thing is almost perfect.
The move was relatively easy. We still have some stuff to unpack but most is done. The house looks good. Small things fit into place and my home looks good.
I have space of my own. My craft room is doing well. I have a chair in the main room to retreat to. My lounge is comfy with my craft etc right at hand.
We’re seeing other people and there is no residual jealousies. We have a place for others and our space and it is good. It’s a good feeling knowing that we can live the life we want. We are open, honest and relaxed with our needs and it’s a good thing.
There is one other thing which I cannot share yet, and that has been the ultimate in happiness. I never thought it would be possible.
So why am I crying every day? Why am I unhappy? Well unhappy is the wrong word. I am actually happy but I am waiting for the hammer to fall. I am waiting for the blight to show in my perfect (almost) garden.
Somehow I need to give myself permission to be happy. I need to allow myself to be content and thrive and not look for the bad.
I just don’t know how to do that in the current fog of emotion.