Moving Memories

I’m an anomaly. I’m one of those rare few who actually like moving. That’s right. I enjoy relocating. Moving out and moving on. Moving. There’s always been something exhilarating about letting go. I’m not going to descend into analysis about whether or not this has to do with my history of bulimia, or a lifelong fear of commitment. The truth is, I don’t know why I like starting over. I do like starting over, though. I find the process of reinventing aspects of my life to be infinitely rewarding. That doesn’t mean I’m not a creature of habit. Maybe it’s precisely because I’m such a habit-driven person that moving infuses newness, which in turn enables me to make changes I might not have the audacity to make.

Don’t let looks deceive you. From the outside, I can seem daring and adventurous, and I can be, but I’m also someone for whom routines are effective. I do a lot of the same things a lot of the time, and often around the same time of day or week or month or year. This serves me. It grounds me. But moving creates a built-in new variable and it’s in this space of newness that change isn’t only possible. It’s inevitable.

I’ve always found that it’s in times of transition that I’m able to make the most massive shifts. I’m not the type for whom small, incremental evolutions work. I’m an all-or-nothing person. Upon making the decision to leave my former apartment and move (albeit less than a mile away), I began to ponder the question what about my life do I want to change right now? Because this is the time to change it.

So it was that when I left my old apartment several weeks ago and moved to my new one (Just a few blocks away. Guess my “massive” change isn’t so massive after all), I decided to get organized and to get rid of as much as possible. I went Marie Kondo on my life. And it feels incredible! And weird. Like everything else I’ve ever done that’s at all worthwhile.