I survived my move. As has most of my stuff (so far as I can tell, anyway, about 48 hours after just getting it all into my apartment and then being forced to leave it alone for about 48 hours due to needing to clean out the old place, drive my sister home, and then go to work the day after all that). It was rough, since we had merciless sun in 90 degree (fahrenheit) weather and went from 10am to 4pm, basically. There were plenty of breaks in there and I encouraged everyone to hydrate and rest as needed, but I think several of us wound up with mild heat exhaustion despite my best efforts to keep everyone rested and hydrated (I am one of the people who had it, so clearly I was not pushing people enough). Still, we got it all moved and into my apartment. We then all pretty much collapsed after pushing ourselves to make sure that myself, my sister, and my friend had places to sleep that night. It was a rough evening.

I still need to unpack. I’m hopefully done by the time you’re reading this, but I haven’t even properly begun as of writing this due to a mixture of demands on my time (outlined in the first paragraph) and because of a few outstanding issues I need fixed before I put anything into a couple closets or move furniture in front of things. I have no idea how long that stuff is going to take, but I am prepared to cause an absolute stink if my landlord hems and haws or delays on any of it. I refuse to live in this hell (my OCD is destroying me with my new apartment in shambles and I have been so overwrought and overstimulated that I have to actively restrain myself from lashing out anytime someone talks to me at work) any longer than I absolutely must. I need time and space to organize and settle-in and claim the space as my own.

I mean, I already painted and I’ve now spent two nights in the apartment, but it still feels like someone else’s space that I’m trying to claim. I might eventually succeed, like I mostly did at my old apartment, but that’s not a great way to live my life. I need a place to call my own. I need to own the space I’m in. I need there to not be ANOTHER leak in my apartment. I am so ready to just be done with all of this stress and stasis and limbo. I am ready to be settled and comfortable. I am ready to feel like I’m in control of my space again. And, you know, to try to sleep without earplugs [which has been working great] and with taking less melatonin now that I won’t have two barking and scampering dogs above me, waking me up at night with their noise. I also won’t be constantly interrupted any time someone goes into or out of the garage beneath the building since I’m no longer immediately adjacent to the garage door. I can’t even hear it in this apartment. I am ready to hopefully be able to rest and unwind after being in a stressful, difficult space for so long.

If only it were as easy as emptying all the boxes. Part of taking ownership of a space (at least in my mind), is finding ways to wrap it around you rather than forcing yourself to conform to it. Sure, I could have just slapped things wherever they’d fit and plan to sort it out later, once I wasn’t tired, but that would be a bad note to start on. It is worth taking the time to do things right. To get everything set up how I’d like it. To figure out what I need to feel comfortable and cozy in a way that matched my original vision of this place. Sure, right now it feels like I’m making almost no progress every day (as I’m writing this, I’m on my second day of trying to unpack), but I know that things will start to move more and more quickly as I slowly get stuff settled into place and out of the way of everything else. It might not seem like much in face of stacks of boxes occupying fifty percent of my apartment, but one and a half stacks of stuff are permanently put away, so I am clearly making at least a little progress.

I would write more, but I sat down to think of what else to say and dozed off. Time to get back to work. Or go to bed. We’ll see how I feel once I manage to get out of this chair.