I have made a huge change in my life. With this change came a lot of work that I needed to do physically and emotionally. I will first explain the physical work. I made a physical move. My son and I moved into another home. Our new home was very close to the old one so I didn’t plan on hiring movers, and there was no deadline for me to leave my old home so I could take my time. I packed our essential things gradually leaving the things we needed readily accessible in place. I had no clear-cut plan on how the move was going to get completed. I just relied on the fact that there was no rush. I had time and I was only moving a few miles away. So I packed my nonseasonal things in boxes and drove them to my home each day over that span of several weeks. I chose not to fill my fridge with groceries as I would be moving it to. Although I still had no plan on when and how I was going to do so. The same went for my large furniture items. I knew I would have to move them eventually, I didn’t want the shell out the cash to pay for movers, and didn’t feel the pressure of time.
A few weeks went by, and I was still a one-woman caravan for my manageable items, but the larger items remained and I was starting to feel the effects of being unsettled. I was rifling through packed boxes to fish out things I needed, but had packed because I believed I would only have use for them when I had completed the move. As my frustration started to build, I began to wonder why no one had offered to help. Everyone in my circle knew I was moving. They all knew how I was traveling back in forth with my mid-sized SUV packed to the hilt. They had all seen me stooped in pain from carrying boxes back and forth, loading and unloading. I was getting upset with everyone around me for watching me struggle with this move.
Then I realized that I had never asked for help. Not only that, several times in the past, I had refused help when it was offered. It didn’t click with me at the time that my constant refusal of help may have been a signal to all of my friends that I didn’t need the help. I was responsible for how they were treating me, but being the stubborn person that I am, continued to move unassisted. I moved beds, a coffee table, shelving units, boxes, all by myself. I even carried a six-drawer dresser up six stairs into my new home.
Eventually, I hired movers to move my refrigerator and sofas. I have no idea how I was able to do so much, but I paid that price. I visit a chiropractor twice a week now. I could not walk the day after I completed my move, and two days later I couldn’t stand upright. Was I proud of what I had done? Yes. Was it stupid? Yes. Was it necessary? No. Could I have asked for help? Absolutely. Have I learned my lesson? Not yet, but I’m working on it. Old ways die hard and I am certainly open to suggestions.