I wish I could be the kind of person who doesn’t stress about things. A year ago, a friend from work was without a home. His lease ended on one place and he hadn’t found a new place yet. He put some stuff in storage and stayed with a friend until he found somewhere. At the same time, he had to return the car he’d been using while his brother was out of the country. So no car + no home, but he never seemed stressed out or distracted.
A while later, I was fighting with my landlord about when my move-out day should be. I was stressed about it. I told my friend, “I don’t deal with impending homelessness as well as you do!”
And even at the time I knew I’d be fine. If I had to be out of my apartment, I’d put my stuff in storage and stay in Chad and Lora’s guest room or my aunt and uncle’s basement. I had people who would take me in temporarily.
Similarly, I was stressed during my current move. I had it all planned. I was going to move Oct. 29, which would give me a buffer of a couple days to clean the old place and make sure I had everything. Then a hurricane hit and threw everything off. Quyn was over at my old place Wednesday night, helping me move my furniture and boxes into the living room. I broke down crying. My careful planning didn’t pan out. I hate that!
And while I was melting down, Quyn had her own move planned for Thursday, and she was so cool about it. So cool that she was over at my place instead of freaking out at her own apartment. She moved into her new place in the dark because her neighborhood didn’t have power.
My new year’s resolution it going to be to practice being less controlling. To be more laid back and accepting of circumstances and offers of help.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.