I’ve had to wipe tears away just to see what I’m typing. Things are getting real faster than I had planned.
You can’t understand this emotional whirlwind that is dismantling one’s life to set off on a dream unless you’ve done it. It’s not all happy. It’s scary and hard and real sometimes too. Like right now.
I’m not some 26-year-old kid binning a bunch of crap IKEA furniture and hand-me-downs. I’m a 41-year-old woman who has inherited exquisite antiques and who has fantastic taste in decor. I worked for 15 years to slowly build a home that is perfectly me. It’s classy, comfortable, sometimes funny, and timeless. Like me. I’m so proud of the home I have.
And I have less than two weeks to enjoy it as I love it.
In order to save over $5,000 on storage for my family heirloom antiques, as well as over $1,000-2,000 in moving costs, my brother has been intending to take all my antiques, as well as the bookshelves all made by our father, while I’m gone. He had to sell his inherited pieces when times got tough a few years ago, just like I had to sell some of my own, so he’ll love having our family history around him as he and his wife start their new family with the birth of a baby at the same time that I leave on my journey.
The trouble is, my brother just got a job 8 hours north of here, and he starts on May 26th.
Now my furniture needs to go. In two weeks, over half my furniture will be long, long gone. Just the knickknacks, books, and clutter will remain. Without a way to display them, they will haunt me, rather than give a sense of home. This will stress me out and I’ll find myself often sad that my home has become skeletal so soon.
There are positives to this, of course. It means I stand more chance of selling EVERYTHING and making more money. It also means I’ll accomplish more faster than I would otherwise and have less stress as the Date of Departure closes in on me.
But today it’s an emotional gut-punch. The home I thought I could enjoy all summer will be a “home” no more, but just another place I live.
Commitment is Scary (even when you want it)
In two weeks, there’s no backing out. There’s no undoing this. In my mind, that’s already the case. It’s just seriously heavy emotional-lifting when it becomes reality and it’s all around me, everywhere I look, all day, every day.
I think most people don’t have homes they wouldn’t change if they could. I was perfectly happy here. I have wanted to change nothing. I liked it just as it was.
I will miss this home. I will always remember Victoria. I’ll remember the bookshelves and the antiques and everything else I love about this space. But letting go of this is what needs to happen if I’m to reach out and grab my dream.
That’s the price we have to pay. To get newness often means giving up familiarity. This is just the most extreme form of that. There is no way to top getting rid of everything I own in the “letting go” column. Honestly, not much can trump that.
I’m so happy for my brother. He gets a new life in a new town with a new job with his new wife and a new baby on the way. He has a big, spacious home for the first time ever, at a fraction of what it’s ever cost before. He’ll take our family heritage up with him, surround himself with nice things, and it’ll be a new beginning for him.
In a few months, the world will be mine. I’ll be homeless, a traveller, and a world of adventure will await me. I can’t imagine the incredible things that lie ahead, and that’s part of the problem. It’s all about imagination for me right now. If I could taste, smell, experience what is next, maybe this phase would be easier for me.
Now I need to accept getting rid of everything. And that’s been very, very hard to accept in my mind. I guess when my things are in piles in the corner, it’ll help me process the fact that it’s too much to fit in boxes and store at friends’ homes. It’ll force my hand. I’ll be more likely to be merciless in deciding what needs to go.
Self-redemption, Then Victory
Five years ago this month, I was almost homeless for financial reasons. That I was able to fight back, change my finances, pay down debt, buy beautiful things, and live the life I’d always dreamed of having — a beautiful home in a beautiful place — is a source of great pride to me.
I know I’ll always respect myself more for attaining the home of my dreams and THEN taking it apart to travel the world than if I would have just given up my fight and ran away to save money. I proved I could do this, now I need to prove I can do that.
Life comes full circle, as they say. My circle’s just closing in a few months quicker than anticipated. I will own my grief today, cry a little when I need to, and then I’m gonna get shit done. Just like I have for the last five years.
I’ll get this done. I’ll sort out my future from my past. I will commit completely to this dream of mine.
But first I’ll cry a little for what I’ll leave behind. It deserves mourning, because it’s a beautiful life.
I’ve said it before. This will be one hell of a ride. Not all good. But worth it.
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Maybe, just maybe it will make it a little easier after your loved furniture – the things you know will wait for you if/when you choose to return – has moved to their new place. For my big move last year it was having to paint the walls white; pulling all the colour and the ‘me-ness’ down, and box up all my art and photographs that made it feel less like home, and more like a place I’d stayed at for a long time. It made the anticipation of my new home much easier to focus on.
Hopefully you get something similar when your furniture is moved out. Fingers are crossed for you. 🙂