Can we all just agree that moving is the fucking worst? (Sorry for the adjective, Mom, but I feel it is warranted here.)
Moving is the actual worst. Like even if there’s something horrible in your life, at least at the end of the day you get to go home. But not when you’re moving. When you're moving, home doesn’t exist anymore. Well it does… but it’s full of boxes, tasks, expectations and realities.
Once you’re settled in, home can be the only place to escape from all that. But when you’re moving that centering escape is elusive.
Had a bad day while moving? Too bad, baby cakes. It’s time to suck it up and assemble some Ikea furniture, or unpack yet another box because you can’t find your tweezers, can opener or really anything else in the world that you seem to suddenly absolutely need.
We’ve been moving since Friday and it has not been pretty. It’s been crazy. Actually, it's been mayhem.
I haven’t been writing and I haven’t been spinning so basically save for my medication (because I cannot miss my meds) I am completely off of my routine. It is a miracle we’ve made it this far in that condition, but thankfully, gratefully I’m finally awaking from my moving-induced coma and realizing “holy shit, I need my routine back!”
As I sit here now, writing and eating a cupcake (yes, even while moving life is still magical because there are cupcakes…) I feel significantly better. Yes, of course, the sugar is
playing a role in that, but I am also finding myself grounded by writing once again.
This is why I do this. Because even though today my skirt split while I was picking up seltzer at the grocery store and I still can’t find the box that I packed all my socks in, right now I can honestly tell you that I’m having a fantastic day. That is the magic that is writing.
It’s funny, because as the moving storm approached I started writing a blog post about the importance of maintaining my routine when I moved. Then I got too busy packing and abandoned it, leaving it to die with all my intentions of maintaining a routine.
“I have a whole lot of fear and anxiety swirling around right now,” I began. (Is it tacky to quote myself?)
“Last night I spontaneously combusted into tears while trying to organize toiletries, sobbing at Blake for no particular reason but being overwhelmed.”
“I feel like I’m in this sort of free for all where all I can do is anticipate how much its going to hurt when I finally hit the bottom.”
Maybe the reason I didn’t finish that piece was because I wasn’t yet ready to actually do what I’d end up advising myself: to cling to my routines.
In the abandoned post I’d confess that: “With the stress of the move and the fact that I can’t find my computer charger (how I managed to pack all of them despite having one in every room and knowing how essential they are…) my original thought was that I’d put up some sort of lame out of office post on my blog and hunker down to be moving and miserable the rest of the week. But then I remembered my own holy trinity of meetings spinning and writing.”
Oh how quickly we forget! Or more accurately, I forget. Well, let this be a lesson I learn and grow from.
The spinning, the writing, my AA meetings, all needed to become non-negotiables. And while I knew this in theory, I didn’t do it in practice.
That rough landing I was anticipating? I dove gradually into it, missing a meeting to pack one day, a writing group because of work the next.
Before I realized what was happening I was crying uncontrollably (over some really legitimate, cry-worthy things I might add…) feeling completely out of control of my life and emotions and actually physically ill from all the big feelings.
After the emotional roller coaster that was this past weekend, I knew I had to start building back into my routine ASAP.
I got back on my writing group. I started my day at 6 a.m. with a walk. I went to a meeting and guess what? Now I feel infinitely better! It was that simple!
Now, from the safety of my slowly recovering routine I’m able to look back and see where I went astray.
In betraying my routine, I betrayed myself.
Life, moving, shit, is going to happen, but if I’m making sure I’m well grounded through my routine, all of those things will be a heck of a lot easier when they come up.
Since I’m moving, I’m going to go gentle on myself for having, yet again, to have had to learn this lesson the hard way. Thank goodness for this whole concept of progress, not perfection, because man am I an embodiment of that. I am far from perfect and while I’m still grappling with being okay with that, boy does it relieve some of the pressure.
With that, I want to end with one last tidbit from that abandoned piece from last week. Because I thought it was either beautiful or trying too hard but I’m going to side on beautiful and important.
For me, being able to write through the chaos is a critical part of maintaining my sanity. I’ve grappled with my feelings so many times only able to translate the complexity of them as my self-consciousness gets dissolved by the keyboard.