Unexpected Reaction

February 2nd and I'm finally moving into the room I'm technically occupying. That's only - what - five and a half months of couch surfing in my mom and dad's home, where I grew up?

Not too shabby, Q, not too shabby. :)

I worked for probably five and a half hours, listening to the Cirque du Soleil soundtrack for "Varekai", which is achingly beautiful in a way that flies high above the various languages it speaks. I cleaned off the big dresser, which was definitely my sister's and before that I believe was my Grandma and Gran'pa Nelson's. Up until today, it had served primarily as a dumping ground for unopened mail, various hats, and a few things that Emily didn't move out with her when she left home many years ago. Now, it's much more in line with me. I also cleaned my highboy dresser, I cleaned the corner shelves and put all my books away, cleaned off the desk and even put several photos in new frames.

I'll post photos of my reorganized room when I get to that point. Right now, half of the room is in that awful middle stage, where things are strewn all over the middle of the floor. Mostly paperwork. :)

When I started this blog post, several hours ago, I was needing a break. I made the mistake of filing through a file folder entitled "Jason". My first Love got a Xerox box for all the 5 1/2 years of our sentiments. Jason got a file folder. A fat one, but not a box. It's either the 3 years vs. the 5 1/2 years, or perhaps I stopped collecting every little thing as I got a bit older. My husband and I actually lived together, too, so there wasn't nearly as many letters or notes to document our relationship.

Anyway - the point is -- that file folder: I wasn't expecting the reaction I had while looking through it. The times I'd go through the original break-up box, which generally happened about once a year, whenever I'd be getting ready to move -- my heart would ache and I'd generally end up crying. I don't really have many of those things left, as I was guilted into throwing away so very many things that had to do with my life prior to meeting Jason. Naturally, a similar sadness would be a reaction I would maybe expect from my first time really sifting through my estranged-husband memorabilia. What happened, however, was much more unexpected.

I literally and quite physically got nauseous. I had to put the folder away without quite finishing the perusal, close my eyes and breathe slowly and deeply so I didn't upchuck all over the carpet. Ew. I did not see that one coming.

Nor did I expect faint waves of sickness to return at the very thought of the things I read tonight. Gotta go - making curtains & watching "When Harry Met Sally". Much less volatile.

Love to you all,

~Q~