On Friday, October 24, I was a nervous wreck. I'd been told that the sale of my mother's house was going to happen that afternoon, but after the way the buyer had treated me throughout, I wasn't going to get excited until she and her representatives actually showed up at the closing and everything was signed.
Well, it happened. I had to bite my tongue several times to keep from lashing out at times, such as when the buyer made a remark about my lawyer's crabbiness -- as if she and her lawyer's hadn't given him plenty of reason to be cross! Fortunately, my friend and realtor, Wilma, had told me ahead of time not to say a single word.
Then it was over, I had the check in my hand, and I had a zillion things to do. Call the movers. Finish packing. Arrange for utilities to be shut off at Mom's house and switched to my name at the new house.
Closing on my new house, on the other hand, was the easiest thing in the world. The previous owner, Joan, is someone I already knew could be a friend. We even shared a cigarette in the parking lot after the closing before going our separate ways. I had the house.
But I didn't have much time to enjoy the feeling. Too much to do! I did a bad job of handling the practical details and so did the movers. The move cost about $5,000, yet when I went back to the old house later, I found all kinds of things they had left behind. It's partly my own fault -- I was so anxious to get DSL and cable TV set up that I left for the new house before the movers were finished and didn't do a final walk through. But still -- why would they leave behind my ironing board? Lamps? Not only that, but after carefully filling my waterbed with hot water, they forgot to plug the heater in, so it cooled off and I had to spend my first night on the couch.
Worse, they put things in the garage that didn't belong there and put a live plant, packed in a box, under three other boxes where I couldn't see the marking on the box. I didn't find it until six weeks later. I never found my snow boots all winter. (I didn't find some packaged food for five months.)
I had given literally 40 bags and boxes of stuff to charity just before moving, yet I brought way too much and quickly knew I'd have nowhere to put it. Well, I guess that's typical of moving, though.
Was I somewhat hypomanic through this? Or would anyone have found Herculean strength and stamina when faced with all these challenges? I lifted and carried things far heavier than I usually have the strength for. I was on the go far longer without breaks than I usually have stamina for. I made the 50-mile round trip from old house to new 2 1/2 times in 24 hours.
In My New Home
And then ... I was moved, the cats were moved, my belongings were moved -- and I was here. In a house with a lake in the back yard, a dock with a bench at the end, a rowboat of my own, a yard big enough to garden but not too big to tend. A view of the lake from my office, my bedroom and the guest room -- and they all have sliding doors onto a long narrow balcony. A kitchen with forest green counters -- my favorite color. A living room with north-facing skylights and a ceiling that angles all the way up to the top of the second floor. A family room with a double-sided fireplace. I was instantly home.
With the move, all the strains of the previous three years dropped away. I emerged from the cocoon of anger, stress and depression as a new me. I didn't go manic -- I just went free. Free to be myself, free to make my home into what I wanted. After 11 years in someone else's home -- even though it was the home I grew up in -- I had space that was only mine and all of it mine.
I think I must be a little hypomanic, at least, because I'm doing things I have never done before. Joan, who has indeed become a good friend, introduced me to the lake's conservation committee, which I will undoubtedly join; recruited me into the park district's butterfly garden project; and got me volunteering to help with the planning of the community garage sale next month. I joined the homeowners association, volunteered to do their website, then volunteered to take over their newsletter as well. I'm social and loving it. If you've read my story up till now, you know I am just not a social person. I'm a hermit by nature. But I had made up my mind once I offered for the house that I wanted to make an effort to meet neighbors and not be a hermit. Joan, who is so active in many community projects, made a lot of this possible but - in the past I would have said no, no, no.
In addition, I came up with a structure for my days, so important for people with bipolar disorder. I make lists broken into 15-minute increments. It's generally 30 minutes on computer and 15 minutes working around the house, unpacking, cleaning and organizing. It works well -- I don't get bored and I (usually) don't feel overwhelmed as I would if I just gave myself a list of tasks to complete, worked on one until it was done, then found myself with not enough time and/or energy to continue. I prioritize each day before starting the list, which also keeps me from feeling overwhelmed (most of the time).
Still, there is so much to do that sometimes it gets to me and I don't do anything. There was a two-week period where I was a zombie. There have been several periods of 3 days or so when I couldn't make myself do anything. My diet is terrible. I live on carbs, including a lot of crackers and sweets. I guess the amount of time I spend on my feet is why my weight is up no more than 3 to 7 pounds. (I mean, some days it's 3 pounds, some days it's 7 pounds. I don't know why.) I eat little during the day -- often nothing more than a couple of Frappucinos and a cup of coffee -- then gorge on junk at night, like 900 calories worth of cookies after a microwaved frozen dinner, plus 2 to 3 glasses of milk with it all.
In the end, though, I'm happy. Happy as I have not been in a very long time. Since it reminds me of the way I felt when I first went on Prozac in 1994 and had so much confidence, I guess this really is at least mild hypomania. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn't go away for a long time.
I've put up a few pictures to show what a wonderful place I have found.
