I’ve lost all sense of time since last Sunday. Did I have an out-of-body experience? Have I been dreaming? No, it’s just the effects of being totally comsumed by moving.

To take a few steps back, we began this journey almost exactly a year-and-a-half ago. That’s when we decided that we wanted to try to sell our house that we have lived in for 17 years. It just didn’t make sense for us to stay there any longer. We were worn out from trying to hold onto it by our fingernails, two out of our three kids weren’t living at home anymore, and the market wasn’t showing any signs of improving in this decade.

As someone said to me when I described our situation, “You know you’re ready when you actually start looking forward to the surgery.” That was a very apt analogy. Cutting this house from our lives would involve some pain. It represents the place that we raised our kids and shared so many good times together, a safe and staple neighborhood, wonderful and lasting friendships that we made with our neighbors.

But we also knew that it was time to go under the knife. Since the recession hit, the house had transformed from a haven of peace to a burden of anxiety over our huge debt and the house’s deferred maintence.

It’s been a week since we moved and I feel like I’m just coming out of the anaesthesia. Now that the surgery is over, the healing can begin.