When slow living feels too slow

We’ve been living in Norway for six months . In a house that needs renovations. A house where decisions constantly need to be made, both big and small.

There’s so much we want to do, but every step seems to require another step first. And before that step, there’s yet another one. We keep getting stuck in these endless chains of decisions.

Take the dishwasher, for example.

We can’t wait to have one. But first, we need space in the kitchen. To create space, the kitchen needs to be renovated. And if we’re rebuilding the kitchen, we should decide what style we want. What materials. What colors. What kind of atmosphere we want this house to have.

Suddenly, a dishwasher no longer feels like a simple project, but like twenty decisions waiting to be made.

And so the days pass by. Days of circling around the same questions, until a new project shows up.

The windows.

Do we go for double or triple glazing? Aluminium or wood? With bars or without? And in what color? Do we even know what color we want the house to be? Do we even want to repaint it at all?

Then again, days pass by, feeling like we’re not moving forward at all.

At times, I can feel unsatisfied because of this. Like we’re not doing enough, not moving quickly enough, or not making the “right” kind of progress.

Until I read a YouTube comment from someone saying:

“It’s good that you’re not renovating too much yet. It’s good to live there for a while first, to feel what you really want to change.”

Oof… I could breathe again.

For a moment, there was relief. Until I moved into the garden to pull out some old grass and weeds, and my mind started doing it again:

Where should all this green waste go? Maybe we could compost it. But to compost, we need to separate our waste. To separate our waste, we need more bins. To fit more bins, we need more space in the kitchen….ahhh!

I have to admit that I struggle with this more than Bernardo does. Patient as he is, he seems to accept that thoughtful decisions simply take time. I admire that in him, and I envy that he can truly feel that way. Although I know this, I don’t always feel it: that progress isn’t always visible or tangible.

Looking back on the past months, though, I realise they have been productive. We’ve lived, felt, and experienced the house. We’ve started to understand it simply by being here.

I found a job. We’re making friends. We’re settling in.

We’ve built a life here already.

I think I can be satisfied…

Thank you for coming along!

Jule Noah