What is up with me lately? Seriously. My face has totally broken out, I've eaten an ENTIRE APPLE PIE and TWO packages of chocolate chip cookies (by myself) within the last five days, I'm tired and irritable, I haven't felt like blogging. Or getting out of bed. Or (uh oh) showering.
I think I'm suffering from Post Renovation Depression. I wish I was kidding. But I'm not. I feel like I've been hit by a truck.
Here is Grace recreating my week for you:
If there was an explanation of what Post Renovation Depression is, I think it would sound like this:
The completion of a renovation can trigger a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect — depression. Our society makes it difficult to admit to having negative feelings after your renovation. When renovators express feelings such as ambivalence, irritability, or sadness, they may be suffering from Post Renovation Depression.
This probably sounds silly to most of you. I mean, I'm supposed to be happy, right? Doing cartwheels, right? I KNOW! It is already well-known that I am the poster child for dorkitude which explains part of it at least.
On the other hand, there is something in here that makes sense. For the past year, my whole life has been consumed with decisions/chores involving the front room and the windows and the basement. Every week there has been something else to accomplish. Massive, detailed lists. Frantically changing in and out of work clothes and keeping Grace away from construction debris and managing to juggle schedules and meeting deadlines and inhaling stain fumes...and....DRAMA! SUSPENSE! DEMO!
All of a sudden, no more drama. (For now, anyway.) No intense budget discussions and no more late night decisions about building materials. No ceilings falling in. No chop saw on my dining room table. No fingernails stained Walnut Brown. No more lead paint dust. No more leaky radiators gushing through my living room ceiling.
Just peacefulness and cleanliness and order. And that sudden cessation of adrenaline rushes feels like I've smacked right into a brick wall. Even while I'm looking at the living room and loving it. The attention is no longer on the do'ers, it's on the end result, which is how it is supposed to be. Right? Right?
So, why do I feel this way? Why doesn't anyone discuss this strange phenomenon? Or perhaps it's not a phenomenon and it is a personal failing instead?
Because there HAS to be something wrong with me if I'm fatigued and conflicted about not living with this anymore.
There just has to be.
p.s. Oh wow. I just googled "post renovation depression" and it looks like I'm not alone. Though my blues don't seem related to dissatisfaction with the end result (it is amazing). It is more about my identity for the last five years being known as "the woman with the incredibly crappy house." Which is starting to finally look crappy no more. I mean, without an incredibly crappy house, who am I again?