forgive yourself the golfish laden tote. forgive yourself the full trash bag by the door. six flights of stairs, out the building, and around the corner is further to go than it was before. so let the trash sit there a little longer and forgive yourself this. forgive the mess and forgive the dischord it invites. forgive the feeling of discomfort in your now home and reconcile that you're almost there, almost out. but not yet. forgive yourself the days still to go.
forgive the days you lug around the camera and then can't be bothered to pull it out. forgive the mornings you shower only to climb back into bed, altering the ritual. forgive yourself for sometimes forgetting breakfast. or not making the bed. and forgive the anger you feel. the sense of betrayal. feel it. own it. that'll be the only way it'll shift and change and move on. forgive the loss of one-time-friends. people get older. they grow up and they change and they move and priorities shift and sometimes they move on without you. and that's okay.
forgive yourself the awareness of that which you don't know and know you don't know and know you want to know. this is not a bad thing.
none of it is a bad thing. life keeps going. more slowly than you might like, but it keeps going.