The Myth of the Reset Moment

 

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Since I was little, I always had this habit of waiting for the perfect moment to start something.

I’ll stop looking through Pinterest and get out of bed at 9:35am.

I’ll go to yoga after all my handwash, dishes, and dusting is done.

I can’t go to sleep until a blog post, a column article, and a feature are all turned in.

It’s become a joke (maybe a too real joke) of Maria and I that Moving stole our summer. And it’s true! For two months we searched, wrote, hoped, drank, packed, and moved our lives from our sweet Bergen apartment to two nearby corners of Brooklyn — two new spaces, two new chapters. In those two months, my routine was shot down hard and if you know me, I am a girl who loves a good routine. It’s Saturday’s when I can make yoga, cook lunch, potentially bake or at least dream of baking, take a long walk with an undetermined location, and get dinner with friends that fills me to the brim with happiness. It also gives me the energy and gusto to be spontaneous. Without routine I can’t have adventure, and without adventure my routine becomes to stifling.

So July and August slowly fell into a cycle of moving stress as I scrambled and clawed to find a Brooklyn apartment. It probably didn’t help either that my only guiding light was that I wanted a place that was part “Sex and the City” and part “Secret Life of Pets.” But somehow, I found it and it’s perfect and I’m quite in love despite the world’s largest cockroach visiting me the other night. But throughout this entire process I kept thinking, when I find an apartment I’ll start going to yoga again. Or when I have all the frames hung I’ll dive back into writing. The longer I went without both the harder it felt to return. I kept waiting for “the sign,” the perfect reset moment when suddenly I’d be propelled creatively forward into a swirling sea of ideas and endless hours of energy.

But alas, the perfect reset moment is a stinking, fifthly lie just like the line “It’s not you, it’s me.” It’s you, le sigh, lets just accept that.

This week I saw my first glimpse of normalcy and it felt good. But while I attempted to tie off at life’s dock for a moment of rest, I found myself trying and failing to engage. I missed yoga, I blew deadlines, I overslept, and I was upset with myself for all of it. I had expected life to return to what it was before without giving myself any flexibility to adjust to a new space. I was waiting for the perfect “A HA!” moment when in reality, it wasn’t coming. Now, I’m trying to dive back in because what else can you do? It’s uncomfortable for a minute, I’ve already procrastinated by watching “Buffy and Angel” montages on YouTube, but slowly I feel myself ripping off the band aid and moving forward.

And until the wheels get rolling full speed, here is my favorite video of August. Cheers Jenny Nicholson.

***

Check back Wednesday for a post on the new apartment, musings on the little things, and a storytime about how I accidentally built my neighbor’s bookcase in my home.

 

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