On Monday 17 June, the day after my last blog post, my daughter came over and helped me pack up my bedroom - in which I'd been sleeping for just over 27 years - leaving only my bed and a few items I'd need overnight. That night, I slept in my bedroom for the last time. The next day, with the help of someone else, I moved my bed to the granny flat on the same premises, which is my new home. I moved from a three-bedroom house to a flatlet with one bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom.
Because I was moving to such a small space (hadn't found what I was looking for, within my budget), I'd planned to rent an Airbnb one weekend a month, so that I could still spend time with my mom, but shortly after I moved, my sister (who takes care of my mom) told me that my mom's days of sleeping away from home were over. It was a change that I had not seen coming, and it hit me hard. Driving home, after hearing the news, I bawled my eyes out. It felt unreal that my last weekend with my mom had in fact been my last weekend with her. No more weekends with my mom.
Sometimes, the pain I experience from certain energies feels like it will literally break my heart, but I remind myself that I've overcome things before and that I will be okay. I have to focus on what's within my control. Compartmentalising has always helped me, so that's what I did, and will continue to do. It's a coping mechanism. We all have our ways.
I packed up most of the house on my own. On two days, I had different pairs of men help me move furniture and boxes. Unpacking cupboards, some of which I hadn't opened in years, was intense! I was proud of myself for finally getting rid of essays I'd done while at university, decades ago. Oh, and also my children's laminated kindergarten paintings and drawings! And so much more!
My challenge now is to keep the place clutter-free. Right now, it's about 90% organised, and I'll keep doing little bits whenever I can, until it looks like I want it to. Items in both the bedroom and the kitchen are taking up floor space, and I look forward to having them packed or given away. I got rid of some furniture and other items along the way, which was a relief. Still have a few more to sell or give away.
So now that I've been sleeping here for five weeks, how do I feel? I feel good. My daughter moved out in November last year, so I'd been living alone for eight months. While it was my familiar space, the longer I lived there on my own, the clearer it became that it was too big for me, and that the time to move had arrived.
My goals for moving were to downsize my life, including my expenditure. I'd also been thinking that, if I didn't get rid of all the unnecessary items, I'd be leaving that awful job for my children, when I died.
During the move, which took me two weeks, I'd send updates - including photos - to my close friends. Those pics now tell the story of my move.
It was interesting how many people pointed out to me where moving home featured on the list of major life stressors for adults. Believe me, I knew! I was living it!
Every now and then, I'd lose motivation and feel really sorry for myself. My adult children were working, and weren't able to be around as much as we'd thought, initially. I'd feel so overwhelmed, that I couldn't think properly! I actually needed a second person around to help me think! I got tired of deciding on the fate of various items on my own. I wanted someone to help me decide - someone less emotionally attached to items in the house. One day I sent a message to my children, reaching out because it had all become too much. In the weeks preceding the move, I'd been dealing with work-related stress, and on some days moving felt like the last straw. The day I sent the message, my daughter-in-law called me and we had a good chat. I felt so much better afterwards - less overwhelmed. My daughter kept track of how the move was going, and I made sure I stayed in touch with both kids.
I also have a few close friends who messaged me regularly to find out how I was coping. One of my cousins, who lives abroad, also wanted regular updates. Their messages meant a lot to me. Moving house is not a one-person thing. You actually need a team.
So here I am. I can feel a distinct energy shift. A good shift. Making a move this big is life-altering. I believe that, when you eventually make a change you've been postponing for ages, it becomes a catalyst for other changes. You perceive yourself differently, and you look at life differently. I feel different.
There are obvious adjustments, like having a lot less space in which to move around and put my things, but also a new awareness of habits and behaviours I need to adopt, to make small-space living work. The most important one is that I can't be untidy. Everything has to go into its designated place, or the place looks messy and I might actually trip over things. Ask me how I found this out! :-)
Generally, I'm settled in, but am still figuring out clever ways to maximise my space. A very interesting experience. Loads of ideas online. Right now, I'm going to stay here and call this home. I don't know what the future holds. Once my employment situation for 2025 is clear, I'll review. What I do know is that, as long as I'm teaching, I can move only during a school holiday, and preferably not a short one. Which means June or December. Moving during winter isn't good for me, I discovered. I don't feel at my best during the cold months, so I'd rather move during summer, given the choice. We'll see. We'll see.
We seem to be having one of the most severe winters ever, which is adding to my restlessness. I want warmth, I want sunshine, I want my laundry to get dry on the same day I hang it on the line!
It's been a lot. Life moves so fast, that I often don't get to catch my breath between big energy impacts or shifts. I need that - more and more. I need life to slow down.
I've resumed some of my daily habits that I'd started neglecting, around the time my marking load took over my life. That was in May. It's almost August.
Waiting for that dull moment.
