Years ago my bed linens became a window into my own psyche.
‘Tis a strange statement from someone who rarely makes her bed. I tried for years to take the Martha Stewart High Road (even google-ing how to fold a fitted sheet—life is waaaay to short for that, btw) and it just didn’t take. So I just closed the ‘ole bedroom door and prayed that none of my guests wanted to take an upstairs tour.
Back to deep thoughts about pillow cases and dust ruffles….It began the day PH came home and asked me if I still had a spirit of adventure…such a loaded question! It was more like spirit of relaxation in that moment because we had only been in our house a year and 1/2 after a very long building process (our DREAM home, I might add). I was only two days past unpacking the last box, for cryin’ out loud!
“Adventure? What kind of adventure?”
Heavy sigh from me.
Wide-eyed wonder from PH.
He’d been offered a promotion in his company and it required a New York address. He launched into the our-kids-are-young-and-flexible-it-would-be-so-fun-to-do-something-rash speech and all I could do was look around at the plates and pans that finally found their final resting cabinet place.
Luckily, my spouse was clued in to my Wanderlust nature when we first got together. He was counting on me thinking about the positives (Manhattan fun, snow storms, road trips to new places, learning to say Cwa-fee and dwag), yet all I can do was bite my nails and ask a million questions about what his other options were.
After two look-see visits, a lot of freaking out about how little you get for your money anywhere near the city, and one very teary-eyed talk with our extended family, we did it: Packed up two toddlers (one that had been potty-trained 4 days prior), 16,000 lbs of stuff and drove 8 days to start our new life.
This confessional writing is not about our move, our NY experience or even how we decided to return to the Northwest…it’s about the weeks in between when we really weren’t sure if we were going to do it.
Enter the bed linens….
I started doing something really weird. Like, strange
I started ironing my pillowcases and the top sheet and made my bed every day. At first I tried to ignore this behavior and pretend to myself that it was perfectly normal. But, really? An iron and board set up in my bedroom for weeks? Randomness of random.
As we got closer to saying the final yes and set out to make an appt. with our selling realtor, I broke it down for myself in a journal. First, I was beginning to see a metaphor—ironing out the wrinkles and making something perfect was very therapeutic when my life was about to be turned upside down. I also came to some interesting conclusions:
I do not like to feel like things are out of my control.
My first inclination with change is to be fearful.
I elicit control in strange ways when I feel helpless.
And here’s an even funnier element of this little tale—I continued to iron away even when I figured out the psychology behind it! Cracked myself up. Of course, NY turned out to be fantastic and I look on that move as a total God-thing because it really has added to our lives as a family. The moment we pulled out of the driveway, I released the sheets, the iron, the need to know what comes next. The whole experience taught me trust. Trust that it’s really out of my hands and I have to let God take me down a road even when there’s too much fog for me to see anything.
I’m in that process right now with a new life path…the fog-filled road, I mean. Thankfully the iron has stayed in its dusty spot throughout this process and I’m embracing my 2013 word RELEASE. I guess it’s because the past forks in the road proved to be such great ones when I just let go and ride the wave.
What about you? What’s your ironed sheet when you face the unknown?
Happy week, lovelies~