In Which I Explain How I am Similar to a Preggo Lady

No, I am not preggo.

Put that phone down, and stop typing that email. 

No need to call the HR of my organization to report my immorality, or to alert my pastor and my elders to gather for a public rebuke, or to start sending me pieces of crimson fabric in the shape of the letter "A".

I am simply just in a frenetic nesting mode sans baby. 

Note the symptoms:
1) An almost obsessive compulsive desire to clean and organize. 

Now if you come to my apartment it probably won't be clean and sterile like a lab, but compared to what it was like before and who I was before, take my word for it, it's almost a disorder.  Almost.

2) The compulsion to decorate and put up pictures, and make my apartment look like it's right out of an interior design blog.  The fact that I read too many design blogs probably accounts for this as well.

3)  An immense desire to buy a home, settle down, and then buy a dog.

In a season of transition into the unknown, I've really been craving stability and security, and I think this is my way of coping with it.  I've never really "settled" into my apartment or my life in Toronto because I've always anticipated leaving both apartment and city relatively soon.  This is my attempt to create some sense of stability and security in the midst of change when I don't have any physical ties like blood family or a mate.

Missing Out

Yesterday B.F. caught me off guard with the question,

"Has the start of the year been a good for you?"


The answer was unquestionably, yes. Or should've been.
I've never started a year off on staff in such a good head space.
Yet, I hemmed and hawwed for a few confused seconds before yammering out my answer, seemingly trying to convince myself in the process.

Mentally I went through a quick evaluation.
Personally, I was good, yes.
Ministry, was great, yes.
Familial relationships, fabulous, yes.
Community, fantastic, yes.
Loving Jesus, yes.

So what was the hesitation for?

Physically I was bombed, and the frenetic pace of the past three weeks drained all of my emotional reserves, and left me figuratively heading for the hills so I could hermit away in some cave.

Weekends zoomed by while I scrambled to try to fill that emotional gas tank before Monday arrived.

'Tis a conundrum as I absolutely need alone time to recharge, but the social butterfly in me now feels jipped by my prudent self when I turn down invitations or purposely not make plans.  It was one thing to turn down invitations when I was burnt out, and didn't want to go out.  It's another thing when I want to do everything, but can't, because unfortunately I am human and cannot be omnipresent.  Dang it!