Moved

I moved this past weekend. Just two miles down the road, to a smaller, more expensive place, but I needed the change. This process of moving taught me a few things.

I was excited about my new apartment, but as the move date loomed from just a few weeks down the road, I started to get anxious. I never thought I had much with me. Not a lot of furniture and most of my “junk” was, embarrassingly, still at my parents place. It was going to be an easy move. At least, that’s what I thought until I started to pack. Suddenly, my belongings seemed never-ending. Items materialized out of nowhere. I felt like my place had suddenly transformed into a Mary Poppins-style bag. Endless in its depths. I started to hyperventilate as I obviously had underestimated what needed to be done. My stomach was a pit of worry but I was paralyzed to act. This lasted for a week or so.

Eventually, common sense prevailed. This had to be done. No choice. I had to start somewhere. I began by throwing stuff in boxes, just to get it out of my closets and into a portable container. There wasn’t much method to this madness except for packing what I definitely wouldn’t be needing in the next few weeks. It wasn’t a great system, but it did get me going. You have to start somewhere, so just pick a place and dive in.

One night, after yoga, I had second thoughts. Why not use this move as a way to get rid of possessions I no longer needed? A part of me balked at taking more time in the sorting, but again, common sense whispered the words I needed to hear. I wouldn’t have to pack and unpack as much and besides, I wouldn’t have much space in my new abode. So, I cranked up some tunes and sorted through previously packed boxes. I found that I didn’t need 50% of what was in them. What we believe we need is so much less than what we cling on to and what we truly need is a further fraction of that.

As the week went on, I started working more methodically. Tackling one closet or cupboard at a time, I assessed, packed and then placed a sticky on it when it was empty. This gave me a sense of accomplishment and fueled my desire to do more. Break it down in baby steps and give yourself credit for each one taken.

Finally, the day before the movers came. I signed the lease and got my keys. I wanted to minimize the movers’ time, lest I be charged more than the expected three hours, so I brought over a few boxes to the new place. I couldn’t carry more than one box at a time, so I settled for transporting just a few. It felt good to spend a little time putting dishes away and breathing in my new home before the chaos started.

Moving day came and I was able to give the movers more boxes than I had thought possible. Everything went rather smoothly, but there was still quite a bit that needed to be moved after they were done with the big things. They went on their way, and with a sense of weariness, I assessed they aftermath. My parents came over and insisted in helping me. We got a lot done that day, but there was a sizable amount left for Sunday. I planned to do this last part on my own but they insisted on helping, again. I didn’t think I needed it, but eventually capitulated. Surprisingly, what I had expected to take six hours was finished in two. My exhausted mind and body was amazed and grateful. Accept help. You don’t have to do it, alone.

The coup de gras in all of this came somewhat unexpectedly. I received word on Friday that my first love is getting married on New Years. Although we haven’t been together in almost ten years,  this hung heavily on my heart. As I was moving the last of my things on Sunday, I came across a bag filled with clothes and odds and ends from my era with him. I had made excuses for hanging on to it, but in the light of the news and my move saw them for what they were. I tossed the entire bag without bothering to sort through it. Sometimes, you just have to be honest with yourself and let go.