It's like being newlyweds again

I don't mean in the "oh my word we're so in love" kind of way. Nope...I mean in the way of, "oh crap we have an apartment and nothing in it!" We've spent days saying, "Add that to the Ikea list" as we come come up with more and more stuff we need. I ate yogurt with a plastic fork yesterday and this morning I ate breakfast off a plastic plate. Right now John and I each have a chair and then there is our kitchen table which is our only other flat surface other than the counter in the kitchen. Which there isn't much of (but it's I forgive it.)

On our first trip to Ikea (which took some cajoling on my part to make John go) I found myself excited when we arrived. We have been given the opportunity that few people get. We get to re-think, re-invent and re-do our environment. It's a bonus we get to do it in Switzerland. We talked about colour schemes, themes, storage alternatives. We talk about desks, chairs, lamps, laundry baskets. We made lists, "need NOW" and "want LATER." I was so excited. Feeling so creative, so organized. Then we arrived in the kitchen section. Pots, pans, fondue sets, glasses, plates, cups, mugs, napkin rings, lemon zesters. I was overcome. I had put on a brave face. I had courage. I was happy. Until I was confronted with kitchen stuff. Then I cried. Standing there holding a 5 dollar frying pan I realized I was grieving. I was grieving the loss of our stuff, our life, my happy place, my kitchen, my sense of the familiar and normal.

Stuff can always be replaced. Always. And just because the stuff is gone doesn't mean the memories are gone. Certainly not. Some of our stuff went into storage, only the stuff that would make our hearts happy to see in three years. Other stuff found new homes.

With any sort of loss there is a grieving process. This is something I learned years ago. I always thought grieving was reserved for death. No. You grieve loss, regardless of what it is.

Getting here was a sprint. Settling in will be a marathon.

So I stood there in the Ikea kitchen stuff section and grieved. I grieved the loss of our stuff. Our friends. Our families. The familiar. My derby league. My Valkryies. My favourite greasy spoon. My second favourite mug.

Then John looked at me and said, "I will give you 5 minutes. You get 5 minutes. That's it. Then we need to keep plodding along and get this done." Bless him for realizing long ago that I need timelines for feeling mopey and grumpy. Bless him for being the logic to my chaos. Bless him for being one of 5 people that would actually have the balls to say something like that to me without fear of retribution.

We have told each other from the beginning of this whole adventure that as long as we have each other and snacks we would be okay. So I took my five minutes. Thought about my lemon zester and rainbow coloured whisk and moved on. I needed to be brave. I needed to be Jambuster. I got myself together, breathed a few big cleansing breaths and proceeding to keeping calm and carrying on.

So today, we head back to Ikea (wow does Ikea love us right now) and continue the process of building our home. Building our environment and deciding what we want to surround ourselves with.

And a parting gift...something I found on pintrest 


Jaimée said…
Llama, I want you to know your rainbow coloured whisk is in good hands. I loved it instantly and it has a place in my drawer where it will be loved and whisked. Hope that helps! :)
Tatiana said…
Oh llama that makes me ever so happy!!