An Ecosystem in the Corner of the Room

For the past 6 months we have been growing a little ecosystem in the corner of our living room.  Our fish had all died and things had become a little busy what with a new baby in the house.  Occasionally either Ryan and I would look over at the fish tank and wonder aloud when something would be done with it.  Around October, Ryan made the attempt to deal with the tank by turning off the filter and heater.  The tank continued to sit growing its algae garden, an underwater grave for the fish that had disappeared into its bowels.

Or so we thought.

Tonight while I was persuading Imogen that sleep is a good thing, Ryan began to empty out the tank in preparation for its journey to our new house.  By the time I sat on the couch the tank was empty.  I heard some rustling and assumed that the cat had found some paper.  It happened again and this time I could see Sabine.  I looked at Ryan and then in tandem we both looked at the fish tank.  On cue, the rustling sound emanated out of the tank.  While Ryan peered into its depths I attempted to grab our one and only lamp to bring it closer.  Ryan let out a “No shit!”  and there it was…  the shark that we had thought had died in July.  Lying on its side with its gills flapping open and close, the shark was taking its last breath.   As Ryan ran to get water, I stared at the shark wondering how you give mouth to mouth to a shark and if fish get brain damage when they have a lack of oxygen to the brain.  Were there going to be lasting effects to this chain of events?  Do vets deal with fish with brain damage?  (The strange thoughts had more to do with my fragile state of being due to the upcoming move rather than any real love of the fish.)

It has been an hour and the fish has been fed real fish food for the first time in the last 6 months.  We will see whether or not the fish survives.  Of course, the next questions is what to do with the fish.  It has obviously become accustomed to its environment being unheated, unbalanced and filled with algae.  The algae was probably what kept the fish alive.

The saddest thing is now all I can think is – shit, now we are going to have to move the tank with water in it AND find a place for it in the new house that is not the storage closet.

Overwhelmed

This is the best word to describe my state of being at the moment. I am trying to be positive and glass half full but then there are the moments of complete and utter panic. I actually have felt a couple of panic attacks coming on but have managed to breathe them out. It has been a loooong time since I have had a panic attack and having one with an 8 month old hanging out on the floor is probably not the best way to restart them. I remind myself that I am not the only one who has to pack and move. I am moving a 20 minute drive away not across the country like some people that I know. Really all these reminders do is make me get mad at myself for being so whiny.

I have made lists and make sure that I cross things off to make myself feel better. This works occasionally. We have 20 boxes of books. They are lined up against one wall. I have 6 boxes of kitchen stuff. There are at least another 6 boxes to go. Then there is the den. The front closet. The clothes closet. Imogen’s stuf. The list is endless. 5 bags of stuff went to the Sally Ann and the Elizabeth Fry Society. There is a box of books to be taken to the used bookstore. There is the cleaner to arrange to come in and clean the place but no one is phoning me back. There is laundry to be done. There are the phone calls with the change of address. Oh, and an Imogen to be taken care of. Ryan had an assignment due this week which took up most of the weekend and he had class last night. He can only take Friday off (thank God for that) but because he has a student teacher he can’t actually take a day off to help pack.

Oh, and our landlords want us to take some pictures of the place furnished so that they can use them when they list the place. This means that I have to move all of the boxes in order to take pictures.

What happened to thriving under stress? Actually, I think if the stress was work related I would be alright. Each box here means that a tiny little root is being torn up, multiply that and I am almost at the point of being completely rootless. My house has always been my place to ground and escape from chaos. I am having a really difficult time with this move and I don’t know why. I find myself thinking about having to move again in a couple of years because we will have grown out of the new place. Moving into another place that is not ‘ours’. I think that might be the problem. My roots are questioning whether or not they should bother burrowing in if there is the knowledge that they are going to be ripped up again. I don’t think that I have committed to my new home but look at it as a transitioning place. That doesn’t bode well for my sanity.

Home Sick

I woke up this morning and realised that in a few short weeks I will be waking up in a new house. Yesterday, I was excited about it, today I am feeling morose. As I putter around, stepping over the pillows and toys on the floor, trying to wade my way through the maze of clothes, furniture and cat that is our decorating scheme in our bedroom, I know logically that it is time to move. That knowing doesn’t make me feel better.

This is the house that we moved into when we became engaged. This is the house that I woke up in the morning of my wedding. This is the house that I brought my daughter to live.  It has been our home and it is hard to leave.

I have always worked hard to create a space that was a home. I think that I have been successful but there was always something lacking.  The result was I moved.  It was only recently that I realised that I had taken my practice of rearranging my room when I was younger whenever I was unhappy and transferred it into moving rooms.  It speaks to my happiness with my life that my roots have become firmly grounded into the floors of this space.

A home versus a house is a necessity for me.  Some people are satisfied as long as they have a place to put their stuff.  Being an introvert, I need a place that is safe and that is mine.  I am usually on the go and can’t stay in the house for days on end without going wiggy, but I still need somewhere to recharge.  A retreat from the outside world.  A place where I can putter, ponder and play.

The sad truth is that we have to move.  Our landlords are selling and we need more space.  The place that we are moving to is perfect, except that it is not here.  I knew that we would find the place that we needed to move into, that the universe would not let us down.  Upon meeting our new landlords I felt comfortable and upon entering the space, I felt welcomed.  There is also something very luxurious about being able to go down the wish list and check off not only our needs but our wants.  Wood floors – check.  Dishwasher – check.  In-suite laundry – check.  Patio – check.  Two bedrooms and den – check.  Continue to only need 1 car – check.  Shopping within walking distance – check.

So I am going to give myself some space to mourn and say good-bye to these walls that have been my home.  At the same time, I am going to let myself choose paint colours, plan furniture placement and know that soon we will be able to take a  half hour walk in the sunshine and meet Ryan when he gets off work and that is a wonderful thing.