When New Beginnings Are Boring and How To Start Where You Are

And so, I’m writing this from my new kitchen table, which really isn’t that different from my old writing space. It’s a cul-de-sac, not the country. There’s six hours driving distance, but that’s about it.

There’s my coffee cup, cereal bars, and some of the kid’s drawings.

So, I seem to have just moved stuff from one place to the other.

New beginnings take time.

Before we moved, I had visions of writing in coffee shops, finding more wheelchair accessible things to do (yes, even in Edinburgh), and getting back to local work, whatever that looks like these days.

 All of that will still happen.

But being disabled means we have to plan every damn thing, and we can’t be spontaneous. We kinda can, but we have to plan it.

And because waiting lists are longer than the last time we moved, I’m still sorting out things from this post over here.

New beginnings take time.

My friend says it takes a year to settle into a new place.

Well, shit. I’m stubborn. And impatient. I thought, since we lived here before, it would be easier. Or at least feel different. And by different, I mean not that different.

But I’m still writing at the kitchen table, surrounded by the junk of life. Only now the kitchen is in the living room. Isla comes home and turns on the TV, and my writing time is over. Because I want to spend time with her. And because my husband stole my noise-canceling headphones.

We still argue over what to make for dinner, only now with more take-out options. We still read to the kid, but now she reads to us, too.

We still watch Netflix, now on my laptop. And then I take it through to the kitchen to write some more.

I wrote 6,937 words last week, so that is new. But I still write (slowly) in my notebook then type (slower), depending on how urgent my words are.

We set up Isla’s bedroom first, her bookcase and everything. I have a smaller shelf in the living room for my books, but they’re still blocked by legos and penguins.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

I’m still watching Judge Judy while eating pretzels, but I’m also reading this book that my blogging friend recommended.

I’m still writing at the kitchen table, yes. But it takes less time to find a pen around here. That works.

I just went into the bedroom, thinking it was the bathroom. But I can reach the snacks in our kitchen cupboard.

Dare I say, baby steps?

If you’re in a transition period, these are some things you can do while you wait for the new to feel new, or less new, or even comfortable. Even if, like me, you hate waiting.

What To Do While You Wait To Settle In

Write/Journal. Maybe to someone. A bunch of those 6,937 words that I recently wrote were journaled letters and thoughts sent out to my grandmothers. Kinda like if we were sitting around eating cheesecake, like The Golden Girls.

Now, I’m sure you have your own good ghosts to direct your thoughts to, but the point is to get them out.

I’ve even changed how I write. Used to start with the right page of a notebook, and continue onto the back of that page. Now, I start on the left to the right page. Which helps to keep the pen on the paper.

Read. Most of my books are in storage, but I’m actually getting through books on my kindle, and audiobooks. I’m reading two books on this list of self-help books, but I want to get to them all.

Think of a new project. Because I’m not doing anything at the moment, I can do anything, kinda. Except maybe be spontaneous.

If you’re in a new place, do a new thing. Find a new class, find a new job, write a new book.

Remember this is new. Even if, kinda like us, you’re back to where you used to live, nobody knows you. They don’t know you’re shy. So talk. It’s the only way to find your actual friends you can be weird with later. Silent reading party? Beer instead of wine? Kids more outgoing than you are? Unless we’re talking small groups? You, too? Yes, please. Let’s be extroverted introverts together.

Connect. Talk to people wherever they are, however you can. Mostly online, I know. There are a total of three people in the world I’d answer if they called me on the phone. I’d say 5 or 6, but my husband and my kid live with me, and I can’t think of anyone who actually likes the phone. (I like hearing people’s voices, but I hate the phone. Send me a recording. But not a voicemail.)

Look forward. Make plans. With your people. Look forward to something. As my friends say to me, this weirdness won’t last forever (some weirdness will, but that’s just general weirdness. Like I don’t want to change who my kid is as a person or anything).

New beginnings take time, and then they happen.

This too shall pass, and until then write about it.

When was your most recent new beginning? What did you do with it? You can even decide that today is a new beginning.

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