XV- When you can’t run it back
You never realize how much stuff you have until you have to pack it all up, tetris it into a truck, and move it across several states.
Actually, in my case, that’s not quite true. I am painfully aware of how much stuff we have, because I’ve tried to Marie Kondo my house twice now and haven’t been able to complete the process. (How, pray tell, is one supposed to pile every scrap of clothing or book or gadget one owns into a tiny living room to sort through when you live with other people? You can’t, without being an inconsiderate asshole ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) However, thanks to those attempts, we have less stuff than we did when we moved into this house eight years ago, which I consider a victory.
It won’t be as hard this time around, less stuff and all. Plus, anything I have no attachment to, I’m leaving behind. I don’t care what it is or who gave it to me. Nobody is going to check up on that random thing they gave me a decade ago to see if I still have it, let alone be insulted if I don’t. I’m done carrying physical baggage around with me. (My mental baggage is enough, ha.)
We can afford more space this time around. Florida real estate is expensive, y’all; for what we’d pay here, we’ll get nearly twice the square footage up there. I might have the room to set up separate areas for my various crafty/artsy stuff, instead of it all being crammed into a single tiny office. I’m planning to get a kiln and a wheel.
I’m looking forward to seasons. To mountains. To (hopefully) fewer bugs and garden advice that actually applies to me.
Moving means starting over, in a sense. New house, new walls, new furniture arrangement. It also means suspending all the old routines while you pack, while you plan, while you try to make the transition as smooth as possible. And if all the old routines are getting suspended anyway…why not forge some new ones once the move is done? Start making tea every morning in a bigger kitchen. Have dedicated writing times in a dedicated writing spot. Exercise more. Start supper earlier. Eat more vegetables. Do creative stuff instead of mindlessly scrolling…
Except this time around, I know those daydreams are a trap.
I don’t mindlessly scroll and procrastinate and not do the things I’d like to do because I don’t have the space. (Don’t get me wrong—I’m pretty sure more space will help, but it won’t fix me). I can’t clean and organize my way into better routines. I can’t start over, start over, start over, run it back endlessly until I finally get it right and everything becomes effortless and I stop having bad days.
The house will never be big enough, clean enough, organized enough to finally “get started.” My day will never be scheduled meticulously enough to prevent lost hours spent doomscrolling because I can’t force myself to do anything else. Moving will not untangle the knots in my head.
That’s not how this works.
Like Uncle Iroh said: “Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.”
At some point, you have to leave the past on the ceiling and just…run it forward.
