And, thus, a new story begins

 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I struggle to both start something and finish it.  Especially writing.  Maybe only writing.  But I guess also reading.  This little story of ours feels so much like that book that’s beside my bed, a page somewhere near the end turned down, sitting under a pile of papers…the story is written, it’s already been told, and for some reason I continue with my daily life, leaving it there, saving that ending for another day.

And such is the last four years of our lives.  It’s already been written.  And seemingly bound and placed somewhere out of reach under a pile of papers.  It’s its own story, unique and special from what’s to come.  I’ve contemplated this for a couple of weeks now, pondered many aspects of beginnings and endings, and have concluded this isn’t just the ending of a chapter; it’s the ending of one story and the beginning of another.

Being in the US for nearly a month was a very cathartic experience.  Much like a deep tissue massage, it felt so overdue, so necessary. . . at times so relaxing, then again at some points so deeply tight and strained as to be nearly unbearably painful.  There would be moments that felt like that was as much as I could tolerate, then so quickly after came the rewarding feeling of a sense of release. 

This is what happens when one is faced with fourteen plus years of possessions, memories and keepsakes, first in the shocking perspective of a semi truck, then piece by piece, box by box, opened lid by opened lid, every single item, individually evaluated, in some feeble attempt to decide what to allocate for the current life, what to save for a future life, and what no longer holds any place in your life all together. 

One thing for sure, no other reason would exist to honestly assess your life and personal memories and treasures to such a degree.  It was a physical, emotional and spiritual deep cleansing.  We reduced what we had by at least half, realizing what is truly worth keeping after living without it or forgetting it even existed as it sat in a storage for three years.  I, the admitted organizer and planner, wanted to do something like this for years. This is the epitome of beginning anew, a fresh start.

Of course, this is not just a personal goal met, but a necessity in the demands of the current lifestyle versus our American one.  I’m still not really sold on the concept that ‘less is more,’ but this is none the less the path we’ve chosen for now.  Yet, one thing that came from this, on top of just generally feeling quite therapeutic, is the feeling that I need to begin new in many areas of my life.  Some things I just need to sit aside and admit defeat on.  Other things I need to just wrap up and begin new.

And the ‘anew’ begins tomorrow with the first day of a new job, and the keys to a new apartment, which remains a bit of a cliff hanger for us as we’ve only seen the floor plan.  This is a time for me to start a new story here, a story of an American woman that actually found a job in Sweden, that has a “home” that we can decorate and paint and make all our own, that has a schedule, and most importantly, finally, my own personal “place” here.

So this is the ‘wrapping up' of a very beloved outlet for me.  A place to be able to share our experiences abroad with our family and friends in the US, and as it turned out many other people across the world that I had no expectations of following our lives in Sweden.  Yet, as the new story begins to unfold, and as the words turn to pages and then the pages to chapters, I promise a sequel to come.