I Think I’ve Fallen And I Can’t Get Up

I’m down.  I’m out. I can’t move. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

A big darn truck.

Perhaps the world’s largest — like this one in the photo.  If you look closely, you can see actual humans standing next to the tire, and they only come halfway up the tire.

That’s how I feel about now, dwarfed by this big darn truck.

But my truck wasn’t sitting all polite and quiet and engine-ready.  No, mine was moving and I went, well, under it.

I have some theories about my state of being.  You see, I moved last summer, and I moved across the country.  All the way from the west coast to the east coast.  Why not go all the way while you’re at it, right, and why not with a husband, daughter and 4 animals (yes, they were small… no Doberman’s or Mastiff’s in the car).

It was no small feat, however, first  — to get out of town — and second, to drive with 3 dogs and 1 cat  (in one already packed-to-the-gills car) on the long road to a brand new life.

I should have made a video for Ellen DeGeneres.  It would have won awards, I’m sure.  Especially when the cat (who had been comatose in an impossible position under the driver’s seat, refusing to eat or drink while we drove) thought 3 am in the pet-friendly hotel room was a good time to play.  Loudly.  I have never had so little sleep in my entire life.  At least he was entertaining, which saved his life.

Then 8 months later — oops, I did it again.  Not across the country again, no!  But I moved.  (Am I nuts??)

I do know for sure that I’m tired.

There is something about moving that is much worse and than all the lifting and carrying.  There is something way beyond the extra exercise you get  picking up your stuff and putting it in the moving truck.

I don’t really know what it is.

Is it sorting everything?  Sure, how could it not be? Is it decision-making overload?  Heck yes. Is it the emotional ripping and tearing that goes on?  Of course.

Add it all up and you’ve got the exponentially negative effect of moving.

Wham.  That’s my head hitting the pillow….

Who knows if there some cure, some antidote, some fixer-upper magic for the movin’ blues?

Moving, road trip, Terri Crosby

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