After the whole lack of the “big moment” trauma, me and my life kept on going, and going.  There was still huge amounts of stress for me to deal with, but for the most part I kept continuing to deal with it in an appropriate manner. 


After many months of hard work and worry, it became very evident to me and my husband that we could no longer keep our house.  About two weeks before Christmas, we got the notice that our house was going into foreclosure.  Wow!  How Horrible!  Except the reality was that it was not all that horrible. 


In the not so distant past, if I even thought about losing my house I would have just cried and cried.  I would have spiraled down in a deep dark pit of misery.  I would not have been able to function because I would have been overwhelmed by it all. 


So when we got the news, I surprised myself with my response.  Which was me saying “OK” and “How long do we have to move out?”  I was not upset.  I did not cry.  There were no deep dark pits of misery, and I was able to function. 


How could this be?  Where was my normal freak out?  This whole feeling of actually being able to cope with something was a new and weird feeling.  It was like I was another person.  Even my husband thought it was too good to be true.  He did not verbalize this, but I could see him watching me, checking to see if he could see any signs of a freak out.  Everything was so calm. 

We were all waiting.  Waiting for the freak out that never came.  Instead of freaking out about losing my house, I just kept going and going.  I was able to put the whole situation into perspective. We had a place to go. We would own where we were going to move to, and we would not even have a house payment there.   We would need to do some work on the new house, but it would be totally ours. 


So two weeks before Christmas, we moved into our new house and said goodbye to the old one. It was as simple as that.  Well, mostly simple.  Ok, I admit it, while I did not freak out, the whole move probably pushed most of my anxiety buttons all at once.  


I was physically unable to do the work that needed to be done, and there was no way my husband and daughter could do it all themselves.  So my mother-in-law volunteered to help us out.  What a nice and generous thing for her to do.  What a sure fired way to trigger my anxiety.  


One of my many anxieties is over people touching my stuff.  I am an adult, why should I get so anxious about something as silly as someone touching my stuff?  The only thing I can think of, is when I was a teenager even though I did not use drugs or drink alcohol, my mother used to search my room.  The thing was though, she did not search it when I was away from home, but she always did it in the middle of the night.  I would wake up and I would see her with a flashlight going through my closet, or my desk or dresser drawers.  It really was a weird and almost frightening experience to wake up and see that going on.  


I did OK the first day.  The second day did not go as smoothly for me.  However, I have reached a point in my depression recovery, where I know it is in my best interest to let people know when I am having difficulties.  I told my family and my mother-in-law that I was feeling overwhelmed by the whole moving process, by having people in my home, and having people touch my things.  I told them that I believed the whole process would go much quicker and more smoothly if I stayed at the new place organizing things and not witnessing people handling my things in the old house.  


They were all very understanding and supportive, especially my mother-in-law.  Even when they would bring a load of stuff to the new place and they would catch me napping. 


That is the pattern we developed during the move.  I would work in the new house organizing what I could, napping when the sleepiness caused by my medications got too much, and trying to be as much help as I could.  


By the end of the whole process, I had a new found respect for my mother-in-law.  I also realized that there was at least one person, outside of my immediate family, that I could trust with my most intimate things.  In a way, that realization was a huge relief.  It was as if I had found someone else to share some of my burden with and they did so gladly with no expectations of anything in return.  


Now we are settled into the new place, still organizing our things.  With a lot less stress because we are not constantly worrying over whether or not we can make the house payment this month.  I have a closer relationship with my mother-in-law.  I have discovered that I can deal with one of my worst fears and not freak out.  I have been looking, but I really cannot find anything horrible about losing my house.  So I just keep on going and going.