via unknown
I think I've reached the end of my blogging break. After our move at the beginning of December I was hit by an enormous wave of tiredness which is slowly disappearing. The move itself went very smoothly, but adapting to the new place, new rhythms, smells and sounds has thrown my body off balance. I've been looking for the light (literally) during those dark, rainy days. I kept longing for my dream home: somewhere quiet, surrounded by nature and birdsong. I was vibrating with nervous energy because of noisy neighbours, traffic outside, unpacked boxes filled with my cherished books. I cursed our decision to buy this place, got angry at my own sensitivity. I couldn't find a quiet place to curl up and feel at home. The kitchen needed painting. Christmas and New Year's needed to be celebrated. It all felt like such an effort. And then something shifted. After some talks with the downstairs neighbours (one of which is deaf, hence the noise) I'm beginning to relax a little. And yesterday, for the first time when I turned the key in my front door, something inside me stirred. "I"m home," it whispered.