The summer portion of our Epic Adventure officially ended on Sept. 7 when we pull up to our new, temporary house in Abingdon, VA. Steve started his 13-week travel physical therapy position on Monday. I’m going to reserve final judgment on this current phase of our Epic Adventure for another week or so, but so far, I’m not even going to lie; it sucks!
I’m trying really hard to be all puppies and rainbows, but it’s not working. We’ve long ago figured out that Steve isn’t wired to be a PT. He doesn’t like an 8-5. He doesn’t like needless paperwork and antiquated systems. He loves being his own boss. He loves creating new ideas and working on innovative projects. He loves interacting with athletes and those who are actively pursuing their passions. An 85-year old men on with his butt hanging out his hospital gown isn’t his preferred clientele. (true story)
And then there’s me. I’ve had a job since I was like 15 years old. I’ve found that I don’t really know how to do the stay at home mom thing. Maybe it’s because we are sharing one car, and, obviously, Steve needs it to travel to patients’ homes. I feel trapped. I’m refiguring my identity.
Elijah and I have taken walks to explore our new neighborhood. In an hour we covered about half a mile. I swear; he picked up what seemed like every rock, stick, and weed that looked like a flower. So, I guess technically we “explored”.
I had visions of our neighbors being fellow adventure seekers planning their 6- month hike of the Appalachian Trail. Yeah, they’re not. They are two moderately friendly middle-aged men who are here temporarily to do some work on a nearly power plant.
I find myself looking at the clock… a lot. I’m not sure why. Steve gets home anywhere from 5-8 depending upon the caseload for the day. He vents. I listen. We eat dinner. He vents. I vent. We both listen. We force a little bit of humor and optimism. We cross another day off of the calendar we’ve printed for the fridge. We watch about an hour of something on Netflix. He gets ready for bed. I prepare the nightly ritual of coercing Elijah to stay in his own bed.
So, I’ve given into four days of bellyaching, and now I’m ready to move on. Here’s my quick list of positives, in no particular order:
Free rent and utilities
Lots of time with Elijah
My health and my family’s health
My continued commitment to P90X2 (I’m soooo sore, but that’s besides the point.)
A great, loving husband
Supporting friends and family
Continued growth and ideas for growing 90 Revolutions with the hopes of being profitable enough to live off of
Abingdon is unique and beautiful
13 weeks is temporary
Got plugged into a new church quickly
I’m sure there are many, many more positives. I’m feeling better already. Puppies and rainbows, anyone?
As I wrap up this post, I’m debating if it should remain as a personal entry since it’s so negative and everything. However, life is a process. Epic Journeys can’t always be epic. I’m just being real and honest.
Micheal and Claudia of Rise 365 aren’t going to be pleased since this is, “I’m doing GREAT week.” Technically, the rules are that I’m supposed to respond with, “I’m doing great” when someone asks me how I’m doing. Since no one directly asked me, and I’m just offering up my opinion, it shouldn’t count against me. Right, Michael and Claudia?