In four weeks time, we are moving house. Stated like that it sounds so simple. In reality, however, it is anything but. (Having said that, I have this amazing ability to turn the simplest things into the most complex, stressful, complicated events. I cringe when I think about what I will do with moving house!!)Honored with a place right at the top of the list of the most stressful events in life, right after death (I'm never sure if this is my death or someone else's!!), is moving house. I have quickly come to realise that moving has a way of forcing you to deal with all sorts of issues. Physical, emotional, tactical, logistical, the obvious issues, and those that blindside you - coming out of nowhere and sending you reeling. Issues that have been safely compartmentalized, and tucked away for aeons suddenly rise up like Mount Everest, with sanity on the other side.
One of the most daunting tasks ahead of me during this process is one of both a physical and emotional nature. Unfortunately it is a task I have to perform before I can even think about packing a box. I am a collector (read hoarder). I am intensely sentimental and hyper-sensitive about things from the past. I have what I think is a normal, healthy attachment to these things (others might disagree and say it borders on unhealthy-obsessive-bag-lady tendencies, but who listens to that niggling voice in your head anyway!). I have a collection of letters (written on actual paper - not electronic!) from my school days. Notes passed in class between my oldest BFF Jennifer and I. We are still firm friends today, and reading these takes me straight back to those carefree days of crushes, parties, school disco's, first boyfriends, clothing crisis's, and exams. There is no way I can part with them. Moving on.
I have cartons and cartons of old photos from my parents youth right through to my own kids. In boxes. Unsorted. Again, I can't part with these. Moving swiftly along... Up in the rafters in the garage is a suitcase of old baby clothes from my kids, cartons of school work (from my school days and from my kids), and picture frames - TONS of them. Outdated and empty - but maybe one day they will be revived and given a new lease on life? And magazines. I have no idea why I thought that by storing literally hundreds of magazines I would one day find the time to sort and file the relevant things in them - the obvious reason why I kept them in the first place! I could go on, but as I list my "collections", the knot in my stomach grows, and that voice in my head gets louder and louder!
The emotional issue I have with decluttering before I pack needs to be dealt with. I keep these things for reasons. I don't live in the past, but I like to visit from time-to-time. However, I have decided that I need to purge and cleanse before moving. Be selective and chuck. For me this is huge.
This need to cling to the past, the comfort zone of what we know, has been passed onto my daughter, Kirsten. She has had a hard time getting used to the idea of a new house, a new room, a new area. She has moments of panic when out of the blue the tears start and she asks "Mom? Can my snow globes come to the new house? And my books? And my curtains?" Seeing her battling with this has forced me to address my own fear of leaving the past behind. Stepping out of my comfort zone. Helping her through this as sensitively as possible will be a good exercise for both of us.
Logical issues (being logical is not in my nature!), are another hurdle I have to overcome. I have this tendency to be impatient (*blush*), and need to be firmly in control. I want things to happen how and when I want them. One thing moving house has taught me (in unavoidable neon lettering!), is that I am not in control of a lot of the when's. When the transfer happens, when the exact occupation date is, when my new curtains will be ready, etc etc. I am out of my nicely controlled comfort zone here!!
The physical issues about moving are staring me in the face. These boxes are not going to pack themselves! Before making a start, however, I need to update my WILL DO List. Maybe if I commit to categorizing my photo's and filing my recipes and sorting through my kids old artwork from school (boxes and boxes of it!), I will do it. Or maybe I will trawl Pinterest for How-to-Organise-Just-About-Anything ideas to get me started. Maybe then dealing with my moving issues won't be such a Mount Everest for me. Maybe. I'm Just Saying...
One of the most daunting tasks ahead of me during this process is one of both a physical and emotional nature. Unfortunately it is a task I have to perform before I can even think about packing a box. I am a collector (read hoarder). I am intensely sentimental and hyper-sensitive about things from the past. I have what I think is a normal, healthy attachment to these things (others might disagree and say it borders on unhealthy-obsessive-bag-lady tendencies, but who listens to that niggling voice in your head anyway!). I have a collection of letters (written on actual paper - not electronic!) from my school days. Notes passed in class between my oldest BFF Jennifer and I. We are still firm friends today, and reading these takes me straight back to those carefree days of crushes, parties, school disco's, first boyfriends, clothing crisis's, and exams. There is no way I can part with them. Moving on.
I have cartons and cartons of old photos from my parents youth right through to my own kids. In boxes. Unsorted. Again, I can't part with these. Moving swiftly along... Up in the rafters in the garage is a suitcase of old baby clothes from my kids, cartons of school work (from my school days and from my kids), and picture frames - TONS of them. Outdated and empty - but maybe one day they will be revived and given a new lease on life? And magazines. I have no idea why I thought that by storing literally hundreds of magazines I would one day find the time to sort and file the relevant things in them - the obvious reason why I kept them in the first place! I could go on, but as I list my "collections", the knot in my stomach grows, and that voice in my head gets louder and louder!
The emotional issue I have with decluttering before I pack needs to be dealt with. I keep these things for reasons. I don't live in the past, but I like to visit from time-to-time. However, I have decided that I need to purge and cleanse before moving. Be selective and chuck. For me this is huge.
This need to cling to the past, the comfort zone of what we know, has been passed onto my daughter, Kirsten. She has had a hard time getting used to the idea of a new house, a new room, a new area. She has moments of panic when out of the blue the tears start and she asks "Mom? Can my snow globes come to the new house? And my books? And my curtains?" Seeing her battling with this has forced me to address my own fear of leaving the past behind. Stepping out of my comfort zone. Helping her through this as sensitively as possible will be a good exercise for both of us.
Logical issues (being logical is not in my nature!), are another hurdle I have to overcome. I have this tendency to be impatient (*blush*), and need to be firmly in control. I want things to happen how and when I want them. One thing moving house has taught me (in unavoidable neon lettering!), is that I am not in control of a lot of the when's. When the transfer happens, when the exact occupation date is, when my new curtains will be ready, etc etc. I am out of my nicely controlled comfort zone here!!
The physical issues about moving are staring me in the face. These boxes are not going to pack themselves! Before making a start, however, I need to update my WILL DO List. Maybe if I commit to categorizing my photo's and filing my recipes and sorting through my kids old artwork from school (boxes and boxes of it!), I will do it. Or maybe I will trawl Pinterest for How-to-Organise-Just-About-Anything ideas to get me started. Maybe then dealing with my moving issues won't be such a Mount Everest for me. Maybe. I'm Just Saying...
