Isn't that what they say?
I've been busy. Very busy. Almost too busy. Almost. And, I have to say that busy is way better than depressed. But let me back up.
About a month ago, I broke down. I admitted that I can't - and shouldn't - do everything by myself. I admitted that I was overwhelmed and sad and needed help. I cannot tell you how much the kind comments and emails meant to me in the days that followed that post, even if I didn't respond to them. I read them over and over.
Then, a week later, something miraculous happened. After waiting, stressing, worrying, and hand-wringing for nearly seven months, we signed the papers to sell our house and buy a new one in our new town all in the span of six hours. It was a whirlwind of emotions and paperwork, and once the dust settled, I was still in shock that things were finally happening.
I believe in coincidences, but I also believe in God. And I have said an awful lot of prayers of thanks and relief in the last month. While I obviously can't know why things happen when or how they do, I will always believe that the fact that I finally simply asked for help made all the difference. That and the positive thoughts and good wishes you all sent out into the universe for me.
So, I've been busy. I've been packing. Like crazy. My dog turned five, and my baby turned two. We had a rad train-themed party that I can't wait to share with you all (cool free printables included as is custom on this ol' blog).
We are buying a house that needs some TLC (by which I mean it is totally trashed, but the price was right). I've already spent too many hours on pinterest coming up with a project list that's far too long. I can't wait to start making my new house a home and sharing my projects and tips (and house fix-its on the cheap).
I am quitting my job and finally giving into my long-term desire to be a true stay-at-home mom. And I'm terrified.
I'm glad that there's a lot going on. But the part I'm most excited about is that it's all stuff I want to write about. It's stuff that I think about writing about. When things got bad, my internal dialogue stopped. The running commentary in my head as I went about my day shut off.
Now, I am starting to feel like me again, and my self-narrator has returned. If only I had a secretary I could dictate my blog posts to, I'd be set! Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask, right?