I’ve been particularly anxious lately. I think all the changes that came from moving set me off kilter a bit.
I didn’t realize how much I had turned the apartment I just moved out of into an emotional sanctuary and how much of my sense of peace was based on familiarity with the walls that surrounded me. It’s not just the walls of course. It’s not being able to find anything in the seemingly infinite stacks of boxes and being exhausted from the move and dealing with broken furniture and possible asbestos concerns.
I’ve always been torn between the allure of excitement, chaos, meaning, weirdness, and novelty and the desire to feel safe and secure. I’ve tended to tip more towards the fun-chaos side of things, but this past couple of weeks I’ve been tipping the other way.
I’ll probably settle on my own once I’m used to the change, but I’m going to do my damnedest to push back towards the interesting side of things regardless. I don’t want to risk ending up in a cocoon no matter how comfortable I can make it.