Chains

I’ve been packing my stuff in preparation of my upcoming move.

In case you missed it, I’ll be moving to a new apartment on Saturday morning. I have some things I need to do on Friday night, so I decided to pack as much as I could today. I’ve just finished, and it’s a little disconcerting to look around at my room. It looks much more empty, with empty closets and drawers, no computer set up… and it also looks significantly more crowded, with all the boxes and bags lying on the ground, ready to go.

When I left my parents’ house a year ago, I chose to bring a long the things most important, and most useful to me. Despite being 95% sure my parents would let me move out all my stuff, I like to prepare for the worst eventuality, so I secretly took my things out when they weren’t home, and moved them to my new rooms, with the help of some more accepting family members.

Among the most important things were my ukulele and guitar, as well as a small black notebook I have with letters, photographs and notes, and little things that remind me of how much I have been loved by other people. I also picked out a dozen books that mean a lot more to me than others, plus a couple others because hey, books.
Then among the most useful, my phone, laptop, and PC.

I was saved the trouble of packing clothes because I wouldn’t need my horrible guy stuff anymore, thankfully.

Now I’m looking around my room in slight shock at all the stuff. I have several purses, three large rubbish bags with clothes inside, two bags filled to capacity with makeup, hair products, perfume, hair iron and blow dryer…

It’s odd, this little life I’ve built for myself. It’s only been a year since I left behind most of my possessions, but I’ve already built up all this literal baggage.

It’s not bad, by any means. I like that I have a few dresses and cute tops, and a dozen beautiful scarves. They’re the natural by-product of the life I always wanted. It’s just a little surprising to suddenly see so many physical signs of my new life.

It might take me a few hours to get settled after unloading everything at my new place on Saturday, but it should go well. I will have a larger room and closet, as well as a shared living room to keep books and my computer in. Things shouldn’t be so crowded anymore, but I do have to wonder… a year from now, will my new lodging start to fill up too? How much stuff will I start gathering around me?

I like to think I’m the sort of person who could be happy with her instruments, little black notebook with letters and other reminders of love, and her kindle for reading.

The evidence of my life suggests something else, though. I wonder whether I’d be less tired without so many things tying me to a place, to responsibilities, to expectations. I’m not saying I want to become a nomad next week and walk around with a few things, but I am beginning to consider whether I’d be happier if becoming a nomad and walking around with a few things was a realistic choice I could take at any moment.

You know, not so much doing it as knowing I could, if I really wanted.

Perhaps I feel like a caged bird, or rather a swimmer in deep sea being dragged down by waterlogged clothes. I like my things, and my friends, and my job, but I’m tired of feeling chained down by expectations and reality.

Maybe you begin to see why I’ve been taking a break from the blog 🙂

I’ll likely be continuing my hiatus from the blog for next week as well. I was shocked to look at my calendar and see I have a huge social event on the 23rd, so I’ll need plenty of time throughout the week to prepare, as well as save up all my emotional energy.

However, I will do my best to take pictures of my new place on Saturday or Sunday, so look forward to that at least.

As always, I’d love to hear feedback or your thoughts on today’s post, and I hope you’re having a lovely week! ❤

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One thought on “Chains

  1. juliameadows says:

    It’s so true about stuff. So much of my stuff is still back at my parents’ house and will likely have to stay there until I’ve moved into a bigger place. There’s just no room at my apartment.

    It’s insane how much stuff we accumulate and don’t quite take notice of – we find clever hiding spots for things, really tightly-packed organizational spaces. When we have to take it all apart, the truth finally shows itself (by exploding all over the floor).

    Liked by 1 person

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