It's my happening... and it freaks me out

So, uh, I'm building a cabin, yeah?

Well, I'm not building it. I might contribute some amount of work to the project, but mostly it's going to be built by other people.

People who know what they are doing.

And that's a good thing.

So far, I am finding this a tremendously complex and daunting process. There are so many different people who need to do so many different things. Estimates have to be requested, acquired, considered and selected for each element of the project.

Decisions must be made.

I confirmed my third contractor today – and I am having a full-on anxiety meltdown.

I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? It can all get horribly fouled-up and I'll wind up with a bunch of debt for no actual building or a building that I can't live in and I will have to declare bankruptcy and lose this land, my shed, my un-winterized tiny home on wheels, the new building (or some unfinished part thereof) and have to start over from scratch. 

Well, that's not so bad, is it?

Afterall, it's only money and security and the comfort of feeling like I'm good at modern life. I think I can live without all of those things. I think I have the resilience to come through this if it's a massive disaster.

But, I hope it won't be.

Please, please, please, don't be a massive disaster.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Moving

They say moving is ranked among the top three most stressful events in life – right up there with changing jobs and losing a loved one through death or heartbreak.

I believe it.

I hate moving. I'm happy to help other people move, but I hate moving myself.

There has been a lot of moving in my life over the past 6 years. I've really pared down my belongings, but I still have way too much stuff in way too many locations and in far too much disorder.

I'm moving this week. It feels overwhelming and complicated. It involves a lot of anxiety and a lot of work.

Last night, I had a dream that I was – you guessed it – moving.

On one side of the narrow road that I had to travel with my things, there was a rock face and on the other side, a steep drop. And, if that wasn't scary enough, there was a dragon who was angry with me for having stolen a beautiful gemstone (yes, I did read The Hobbit compulsively as a child).

In my dream, two of my wonderful friends were helping me me move. (Lucky for me, in real life, several more of my dear friends have volunteered to help me move). We did the first load very quietly without waking the dragon. Then I told them that I just couldn't bear the risk of them doing the second load. I didn't want anything bad to happen to them. So I went back alone, as quietly as possible, to get the rest of my stuff.

I can't remember how the dream ended.

But, I'm pretty sure I got busted by the dragon as I sneaked back with the second load. And ended up as ashes and dust. (Which might be my subconscious mind telling me that I should just light all of my belongings on fire and start fresh).

So, here's to moving: anxiety and terror met (in my dream at least) with courage, love — and inevitable, sickening disaster.

Wish me luck.