Out of a Box
I was walking with a good friend of mine the other day and I was telling her how unsettled I feel with the apartment. Telling her that I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but saying that "once we are in the house," it will all be better. She turned to me and said, life out of a box. That was it. In a matter of seconds, she perfectly described what I've been feeling for the past 2 years, but could never quite articulate. My clothes aren't in a box, they're just in our office, but life to me has been living out of a box. With the state and size of our apartment, we live in complete chaos. We try not to, but it is inevitable.
Rehab of any sort involves hope. Hope and waiting. Hope, waiting, and patience. Ah, yes... patience. We have been patient, and we definitely have been waiting, but we have also been telling ourselves that once we're in the house we'll start going for walks. Once we're in the house, that's when we'll start dressing more like we're in our twenties and less like the preadolescent attire that lines our office. It's become so ingrained in our everyday lives, that just as my friend so eloquently put it, we have been living out of a box. Waiting for life to begin, waiting for us to move into the house.
We are conscious of how we live, but it's out of a box. In every sense of the word, we truly are box people. Our dinner last night? Three boxes. All cooked within the electrical box we have come to love so dearly. Nathan calls it astronaut food, I call it dinner. Our books, paint brushes, skates, and dishes. Boxed, boxed, boxed, and boxed. We have more storage than any one person I know and we are only in our mid twenties. Did the temperature just change? Don't worry, I'll go get our box of winter clothes from storage. Need to make a casserole for Thanksgiving? Don't fret (did I just use that word), I'll go get it from storage (NOTE: Actual Thanksgiving cranberries were served in a bowl from Dierbergs. I couldn't find any in storage. All right, I didn't bother to look). If this rehab has taught me one thing, it's been to live life in the present. To live, love, and enjoy what you have, and forget about the rest. That and once we move into the house, we're giving away a lot of our stuff.
Coming Soon, Astronaut Food: How to prepare, consume, and deal with the aftermath.
Rehab of any sort involves hope. Hope and waiting. Hope, waiting, and patience. Ah, yes... patience. We have been patient, and we definitely have been waiting, but we have also been telling ourselves that once we're in the house we'll start going for walks. Once we're in the house, that's when we'll start dressing more like we're in our twenties and less like the preadolescent attire that lines our office. It's become so ingrained in our everyday lives, that just as my friend so eloquently put it, we have been living out of a box. Waiting for life to begin, waiting for us to move into the house.
We are conscious of how we live, but it's out of a box. In every sense of the word, we truly are box people. Our dinner last night? Three boxes. All cooked within the electrical box we have come to love so dearly. Nathan calls it astronaut food, I call it dinner. Our books, paint brushes, skates, and dishes. Boxed, boxed, boxed, and boxed. We have more storage than any one person I know and we are only in our mid twenties. Did the temperature just change? Don't worry, I'll go get our box of winter clothes from storage. Need to make a casserole for Thanksgiving? Don't fret (did I just use that word), I'll go get it from storage (NOTE: Actual Thanksgiving cranberries were served in a bowl from Dierbergs. I couldn't find any in storage. All right, I didn't bother to look). If this rehab has taught me one thing, it's been to live life in the present. To live, love, and enjoy what you have, and forget about the rest. That and once we move into the house, we're giving away a lot of our stuff.
Coming Soon, Astronaut Food: How to prepare, consume, and deal with the aftermath.
1 Comments:
This is the first I have read any blogs. I am from rehabbers list. You have a wonderful sense of humor for one who has been in rehab for 2 years, I always wondered if those who come out of treatment feel as good as one who accomplishes a rehab. I do think it could become addicting, or is it just that you can't stop because it never seems to be done? I look forward to spending time enjoying the photos of your home and some future posts.
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