I’m moving house this week and to say I’m stressed is an under statement. I actually feel like I am going to physically explode…y’know those cartoons that you see of people stressed, with steam streaming out of their ears? Well, thass me.
I am so over moving house. So. Over. I am so bored of not having steady feet beneath me. I want to say it’s just been this last year that this has been the case, but it isn’t/it hasn’t. Since the age of 18 I have never lived somewhere longer than 8 months…I have stayed in the same place for longer than this but moved rooms/homes. Initially it was travelling, then it was university, and then it was being an unintentional kinda nomad with my ex-boyfriend. And then I was just being a bit of a nomad with myself. Not initially, sometimes initially, but most of the time it just kinda happened that way. I remember when I was a teenager I said that I wanted to live the life where I spent six months in one country, in one season, and then six months in another, in a different season…i.e. snowboarding one season and surfing the next. I thought I strayed far from this path when I hit university and found my dream. I thought that ponder/dream was just that…but now I realise that my life, the last few years, has kinda happened that way. Except I’ve spent six months here, six months there – sometimes in the UK, sometimes not.
I have deliberated and DELIBERATED about moving to where I’m moving to. I have been house hunting for about a month and checked out various places that I have ended up being so relieved I have said no to. I said yes to one place and then listened to my instinct and ended up saying no. I then found this little place I’m moving to and I have literally only just definitely decided this evening. I have still been looking at other places but this evening looked at another and realised I think I am doing the right thing. Or at least I am choosing the best option out of the options at my fingertips right now.
Fuck I’ve noticed a lot throughout this whole process. I’ve noticed my patterns, I’ve noticed my fears, I’ve noticed what I can handle, I’ve noticed what I can’t all at once, I’ve noticed the deep running fuck-ups my mum has left behind in me, I’ve noticed I’m really getting to grips with boundaries, I’ve noticed my ‘commitment issues’, I’ve noticed my fear of settling down and feeling stuck. But the main thing I’ve noticed is that I really need a home. A HOME.
It is weird how much this move is affecting me. But in a way, it’s really not. Of all the years, this has been the one that I have needed a wholesome healthy stable base the most…yet I have had quite the opposite. Until now that is. But this place I have stayed in the last five months, I always knew would come to an end because the house is being sold…it was only a matter of when.
This move feels like it’s happening for real this time. Slowly, the last two moves I begun to be phased by them. I could see I was rocked by the fact I was moving, but never in this way. It’s almost like I’ve been working my way towards really truly feeling like you’ve hit base, and the thought of upheaval just brings you out in hives. Well, if I had hives I would have them now.
I used to look at friends moving house and wonder how they were so stressed…I never really ‘got it’. Well, now I do. And I’m not even moving a whole house – I’m just moving me and my room, and the rest of the shit scattered about the place. In a sense though, that is a house. It’s just I don’t own the other shit that is no doubt going to gather over the next few years.
I don’t know how the next few days are going to happen but I know they will – they always do. I feel like I’m going to explode but all I keep thinking is just to hold on tight to the wave, and ride it, and hope that others will jump on with their surfboards (and bedroom furniture and cars) too. The room is unfurnished which is a bit of a bitch, but also kinda exciting because it means I get to make it mine, fo’ real. I bought a mattress that will be being delivered on Wednesday, to the new place. I have a wardrobe that somehow I will collect from my friends, and then the rest will have to come over the week. Right now all I can muster up is the beans to co-ordinate this last day or two, and then the next two. Right now a chest of drawers and a writing desk are way off my mind, but I know the minute I set foot in my room with bags and boxes all around I’ll dream of marrying Ikea.
I feel like my life is changing. I feel like this move is showing me so. I feel like I chose this place over the other options because I want to give this life a go – the cosy, tidy, cute, homely, life a go. I want to try leaving the student living life behind. And of all the times I need it, it couldn’t be more so now. I feel like this move is setting up the pathway for my future to come. It’s taking guts, and balls, and navigating deep running kick ass fears, but I just feel like I deserve it.
Let’s hope I don’t explode, the hives stay at bay, my body chills the fuck out a bit, I manage to get all the help I need, and I find some cute-as furniture to hang out with me. Oh, and did I mention I hadn’t even started packing? Nah.