I feel like a broken record. Again, a week of phone calls with no resolutions. We have contacted our contractor, our loan provider, our home sales rep, and our financial adviser. We’ve signed the purchase order and have enough money in my retirement fund to give me a bit of a raise.

On the upside, I feel like I’m coming out of my writer’s fog, only to face the wall of procrastination. I spent a couple of days this week listening to the course presentations in which I enrolled last year. I sat down with my mind on my writing and even edited a flash fiction piece I wrote a couple of years ago. It felt like a small victory.

I’ve spent this year struggling through the stages of grief that follow a catastrophic loss. The numbness at the beginning eventually gave way to anger and depression. (Thankfully, the depression wasn’t overwhelming as I was already taking a mild anti-depressant due to the sudden change of careers the previous year.) I’ve reached acceptance and am very ready to move forward with our new home. I just wish the ducks would line up a little quicker.

Depression has been an unrecognized companion of mine for most of my life. It wasn’t until I met First Reader that I was treated for it. Because I recognize when my depression gets severe, I’ve worked with my doctor and been able to go on and off the drugs as needed. It’s when major life events, such as a career change or the loss of a parent or home, occur that I’ve had to resort to continuing the drugs. (I would rather use natural methods when possible, they produce fewer side effects.)

This year has taught me that writing is part of my therapy. It’s one reason I’ve made it a point to post our progress weekly instead of waiting for the major milestones, even if I don’t have much to report.

For now, here are this week’s pictures of the change in colors.