Spring cleaning

Change is coming. I feel it in the air. I feel it in my bones. There’s something magical about those first signs that spring is about to wrestle the baton from winter’s grasp, leading us all on a merry romp away from a grayscale existence and back into the warm exuberance of a technicolor world.

But today, as happy as they make me, I’m not going to talk about the first blooms or leaf buds. I’m not even going to talk about the first warm rays of the sun. Ok, ok, maybe I will say a few words… It’s hard to ignore the return of sunshine and flowers. I am definitely celebrating each and every blossom and bliss filled moment of warmth. Those first signs of spring act as sparks. They encourage us to reevaluate the contents of our homes and our lives, and then purge accordingly. Every spring, a switch gets flipped for people all over the world, urging us to begin the frantic process known as spring cleaning. During the past few years, when symptoms of PTSD made it difficult for me to enjoy a laundry list of things*, the first signs of spring managed to capture my attention, but that was it. Full stop. It took every bit of energy and concentration to do the daily things that needed doing. I didn’t have the capacity to take on any additional tasks. And I definitely didn’t need a push to reevaluate my life—I had been doing it incessantly since my life flipped upside down. I had a lot of ideas about what I needed to do but no bandwidth to actually follow through. I was a mess, and I knew it.

But this year, even before those first signs of spring, something shifted. By mid-January, I was thinking about getting back to business. I knew that, in order to have the energy to make big life changes, I needed to start by focusing on my health—both mental and physical. I began to take some small steps and then build up from there. After almost five years of deprioritizing myself, it’s going to be a long, slow process. But I’m putting in the time and doing the work. I’m feeling more hopeful than I’ve felt in years.

I’ve also started to get stuff done around the house. After a year of working, learning, and recreating from home, I now know what functions well and what doesn’t. I’m ready to get rid of a mountain load of crap. Let me know if you’re in the market—I’ll send you a list.

As if that isn’t enough, I’m also thinking about what I can do to get ready for the future. It won’t be long before Mr. C graduates and goes off to college. What do I want to do then? How can I best prepare for the life I want to live once I’m free to go wherever I want? Where exactly do I want to go? Permanently leaving the Pacific Northwest is probably not the answer. My parents are here. I have friends here. I have roots. Not to mention I’ve left Washington behind more than once and I just keep coming back for more. I’m not convinced I will ever be ready to walk away completely. But within the next few years, I’m going to have options. Options that will be only as limited as my imagination—and my ability to make money on the road. While I’ll be the first to admit that my imagination may be limitless, my bank account isn’t. So I’m taking steps. I’m back in school and working on skills that just might allow me to work from anywhere in the years to come. Yay, me!

I have spent too much time safely tucked away in my den, hibernating while the world spun on all around me. But change is coming. I can feel it. And I’m ready. It’s time to take action. It’s time to prepare for my next adventure. It’s time to reevaluate and plan. It’s time to finally take care of myself again and, this spring, that means paying homage to the warmth of the sun, rejoicing in the blooms and the bunnies, and checking off one task after another.

Happy spring, my friends!

I took today’s photos near the waterfront in my town. I’m not sure why, but every time I drive past that business, the old junk rusting in the yard makes me happy. I seriously hope they don’t decide to do any spring cleaning.

*Why the heck do we use the expression, “a laundry list of things,” instead of something else that makes more sense like, “a grocery list of things” or “a school supply list of things”? I suppose it’s because there’s always more laundry...