Packing

There is only one thing I hate more than packing...moving.

I find the process of moving to be exhausting, even though it is quite satisfying when you finally get where you are going and unpack and put everything away and find the perfect spots for all of your knickknacks.

 I moved multiple times in college, every year I was there.  I remember not making such a big issue about it, I would just throw everything in a car (or my best friends SUVS) and make some trips, back and forth. Always hungover.  The moving process would begin around lunch time and span deep into the night. Little by little the move would be done, with many cigarette and Diet Dr Pepper breaks in between.

When I got to my 20's, I moved 5 times, one of those times back home right around my 30th birthday.  These times, I hired movers because spending a bit of money was worth protecting my back from all of the trips up and down the stairs.

This time, I am lucky.  I am moving into a furnished condo that is independently owned and quite adorable.  The condo is furnished and has all major appliances, but I still need to bring my clothes, books, photos, dishes, pots and pans, bedding, towels, kitchen appliances, and TV.  I was thinking this would be easy breezy, but I did spend the entire day yesterday packing and there is still TONS of stuff to go through from my past.  I have been avoiding dealing with my possessions because I sometimes find looking back to be sad and painful, but I put on my big girl panties and dealt with it and it wasn't so bad.  I plan to finish today and cross packing off of my list of things to do this week. 

I called U-Haul yesterday and changed my reservation to a slightly bigger trailer (I put a hitch on my car, so I can drag the trailer and then put a bike rack on my car, lots of trails to discover in South Carolina!) to fit all of my stuff.  I underestimated just how many clothes and books I actually have when I placed my order. My folks are very firm about me getting "all of my shit!" out of their basement as it is time to move on with life and life isn't in Chicago anymore. 

Yesterday, as I was sifting through my old work files, I got a little emotional.  I cannot believe I am here.  I am finally doing something for me (and Crush of course).  I am moving for a better life.  Nicer weather.  Soul mate love.  A slower pace.  Steps from the beach.  I remember begging Awful for a quieter simpler life and he just didn't get it.  I had to go out and find it for myself.  This is the first time in my life that I feel I am actually living my life 100 percent for me.  I am giving up a lot (like my business) to leave Chicago, but it is the best decision I have ever made.  I have no regrets.  Being with Crush and moving is something I am so confident about, it even surprises me that I am at such peace with this major life event as transitions often break and derail me.

As I make my moving piles, I have faced my past, present, and promise of my future.  And I am happy.  I am VERY VERY happy.  

2 years ago, I was contemplating how to survive and now I am contemplating the best parks in Charleston for a Sunday picnic under a magnolia tree.

Hope.  That is the secret.  I had hope.  And now I am here, in this moment, exactly where I hoped I would be.