Last night I finished putting up sheetrock on one wall of my garage/shop.  Normally, I wouldn’t think this a conversation point in my head but last night I went to bed with a sense of accomplishment in overcoming my fears.

Nope, not afraid of sheetrock.  Not scared of the dust it makes that is still caked in my eyes and my throat.

I’m fearful of the memories.

For those that may not know me, June of 2011 our home was flooded.  What followed was amazing, exhausting, damaging, loving, and so many other things.  After a long 18 months, we moved back into an *almost* finished home and started the path back to a “normal” life.  That was two years ago and guess what – we’re still in an *almost* finished home.

The Wife Unit uses the line, “You need 3 things to work on something – Time, Energy, & Money.”  For me, those are good alibis, because we haven’t had much of any of those three.  What has really held me back from finishing trim, rewiring the shop, finishing the basement (where my work office is)?  Only recently have I realized it was fear.

Everytime I pick up a hammer, lift sheet rock, remove screws from the old walls…every time I start to work on the house, a flood of images and emotions surge through me.  (And yep, that was a great pun right?)

I’m sitting here as I type this, trying my best not to start bawling in Starbucks.  Our house was one of the things I’ve been able to make sure takes care of my family, and I feel like I couldn’t protect it that morning the waters came up.  We had to decide that I would focus on the house and the Wife would keep up with the kids.  There were a lot of times I was alone in that house with snow melting and dripping down over me from the unfinished roof and all I could do was crawl up in a ball.

While this blog was set up with the intention of me capturing some of my internal dialogues and conversations, I know I will post this and I don’t want you to think how sad this story is.

What I want me to remember and others to know – It was freaking hard, the hardest time in my life – that compares to almost losing my mother when I was 17 who is now quadriplegic, parents & grandparents getting divorced, shoulder surgery and so many other stories, just like most of us.

Remembering is fine – just don’t let it shut you down.  I was afraid that when I strapped that tool belt around my waist, I would have to face those memories again and that scared the living hell out of me.  I had set out to show my kids that no matter what is thrown at you, put your boots on and go to work fixing it.

So I’m back – not because I’m unafraid now.  I’m back because it’s time to finish this.  It’s time to stop letting those emotions throw excuses around.  It’s time to put my boots back on.

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