See, I am moving. To a nicer place with more space, which is good. But moving at all is hard for me. The last time I moved a houseful of things was under extreme duress. I had to go back with a police escort and get a van full of stuff. Just that, the things I could mail to wherever I would end up. I had no idea where that would be. A van, a small family van, with three kids and me, and whatever would fit.
It wasn’t even my van.
I mailed it all, five months later, and took a plane. Two planes, as the children like to remind me. I amassed a bit more than that vanful, but not much.
Then when I moved in here, eight months after that, three generous people donated furniture and household goods to me. Enough to make it work.
Since then I have a full household of stuff, again. It took me only three and a half years to gather together all this.
So I have hired movers. I shouldn’t pay for it, it costs too much. But I am doing it. I am trying to make it easy.
I know my PTSD is getting worse the closer the day comes to me. I just hope the children prove immune. I hope their PTSD is not triggered.
I hope they don’t remember again.



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2 responses to “Moving

  1. I’d so come truck your shit with you, if the circumstances allowed. I would.
    Moving sucks. Exhaustion of the body and mind. I’m sending you my Boudicca. ♥

    • Thank you, I can use it! I would take you up on it, too! Luckily the more locals hear about my move the more offers I get to help. The nicest people live around here. I already paid the movers,so they are on standby… just in case.

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