I’m sitting here in the clutter. My pretty blue carpet is covered in boxes, the bookshelf behind me is empty and works like an echo shell amplifying each little sound I make. The dust bunnies roam across the floor because I’m not going to vacuum until this room is empty.

It looks little different than when we were moving, and in some ways I feel like I’m doing that all over again.

You see, last week, I had a thought. That thought suggested that I might like to have a bigger office. I wandered into what’s currently the master bedroom, and I envisioned in my mind where I’d put what if I was moving my office in there.

It was a bit more space. Enough, in fact, to add another table.

I’ve already got two, so I was a bit worried I was being greedy. I’ve got a drawing desk, which is the saving grace of my back when drawing but can’t be used for painting because of the tilt. I’ve also got my work desk, which houses my computer.

Neither are easily used for anything else.

And the seed of a dream that was planted in my head, was of an empty desk. A desk that would serve for painting and sewing, things I haven’t had the space to do because it always involved a lot of shuffling stuff around.

I trundled back into the living room and said to hubs, “I might like a bigger office. And I might have a thought about it being the bedroom”.

He was on board immediately. Reminded me he’d suggested as much when we moved in, but back then I’d declined. I just wanted to get the move over with. I directed movers carrying boxes without much thought. “I can always change it later,” I mused.

Well, later has arrived.

I’m both anxious and excited. Excited because of the space, because of the set-up I’m going to have. Because of the things I’ll be able to do that I can’t now. Anxious because it’s going to be a lot of work and I’m dreading diving into the move again.

All this week I’ve felt extra aimless and listless and purposeless. But I thought maybe this is just being human? Not knowing what to do with yourself. Going through days in a haze of indecision. Not feeling like anything excites you any more.

Until I realised that I’m in the middle of a major life reorganisation.

We moved in two years ago, but because of the anaemia I haven’t had the energy to deal with the fallout. But now my anaemia is being treated and I’m finding that the reorganisation has come due. I made the move quick by just shoving things into cupboards. I knew I’d have to deal with it one day.

I shouldn’t be so hard on myself.

I should treat this like a move or a renovation. It’s a big project, and it’s taking a lot of my capacity. Organising life does. Plus after it’s all done and I start sewing storage baskets, I need to dive into the cupboards to organise all the fabric and art supplies and get rid of old clothes anyway.

Getting the move done was a large external change that was needed and needed to be done on a tight schedule. This is a more internal organisation, reordering life and how life works, but without the major external changes.

It’s still a lot of work and I need to stop punishing myself for not churning out “productive hours”.

Creativity doesn’t look the same every day, every week, every month or every year. It goes up and down, side to side. I’ve had good days for writing, but the fewer writing days I have, the more I start beating myself up about not doing enough.

But the bottom line is that I won’t have anything to write about or the energy to do the deep creative work without creating this space and bringing in this new energy that I’m working on right now.

This is important work too.

All the love, all the power,

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