I’m a firm believer in the power of community. I believe that none of us should be afraid to lean on each other or gather support from a network of friends. But, I’m also learning that there are moments that I need to stand alone…
My move this week is a big step for me. I’ve never signed a lease on my own or moved myself without aid. As a matter of fact, I’m sure that for most of my life I felt that I couldn’t have done either of these things successfully, which is why I’ve eschewed nearly all offers for help on this move. Although I’ve had many friends stop by and keep me company as I pack, and have had many friends drop by empty boxes for me to use, I’m going at this on my own (and thank you, all, for your kind offers–I appreciate them so very much).*
Perhaps it’s because there’s still a lot of my ex’s stuff to sort through or perhaps it’s the need for a very clean break with this move, but whatever the reason, I needed to not have help with this. I needed to know that I could do it with my own two hands and my own strong back. I’ve planned ahead for weeks and packed small, liftable boxes. I’ve taken load after load to the Goodwill and the dumpster. I’ve given away many of the larger pieces of furniture. A friend with a truck will come and help me schlep some of the furnishings that require more than two hands to carry, two neighbors helped me move the beast of a file cabinet out of my storage closet, and the kids have carried some loads to/from the car–but the bulk of this I’ve done by myself. At this point I’m on the tail end of things and I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit to some level of exhaustion. But the end is in sight and I can’t believe how smoothly it’s gone so far.
I realized, in chatting with a friend last night, that what I’m the most afraid of with this move, is of failure. I’m afraid that I might’ve made a mistake in arranging for this home to live in. I’m afraid that I might’ve bitten off too much to care for (this home is at least twice the size of my current place, though still small-ish by California standards). I’m afraid that maybe I can’t actually afford the extravagance of a home (even though it’s still well within my means). I’m afraid that I might not be ready to move away from the block where I’ve lived for 15 of the past 20 years (oh, that is huge change! Huge!).
But as I sat on the edge of my new-to-me bed last night and looked out the window (the one that looks out over the deck and garden) and felt the cool night breeze on my face…I lost much of that fear. It’s time for this change, I know it. And I’m ready for whatever consequences will come of it.
*the one exception to this is my kids’ stuff–they are packing and moving their own things.
And, for your listening pleasure….here’s the song that’s become my mantra for this move. I love humming along to it while packing. :)