One box at a time...

Some days are full of revelations and epiphanies. Others are all about the mundane, the necessary. Doing the work. One step in front of the other. Dull, even. When I was coming to terms with the gargantuan task ahead of me: purging and sorting through a quarter century of memories and debris, there were times when it was overwhelming. Panic attacks awoke me constantly at night...and would seep into the fabric of my days. Roadblocks seemingly popped up everywhere and little voices inside kept saying, "You're crazy,. What are you thinking? You can't do this."I ignored those voices - or screamed back at them (my cats didn't mind) that they didn't know shit.And I kept moving forward.One box at a time.Less than a year after I changed my way of speaking...less than a year after I stopped saying, "I'd love to live in NY someday," and started saying, "I'm moving to NY;" I'm here.I'm learning about patience and perseverance, and how they have to go hand in hand. And so, having some slow, "putting the little pieces together" kind of days are OK with me, for now. Because you have to build a strong foundation to hold big dreams.