So I’m about 3/4 packed up… 6 days to go til I have to be out. Just the big furniture things which the movers are taking to storage on Thursday. I’ve been taking boxes of stuff over there already and there’s 43 boxes of stuff lined up against one wall like a giant Tetris puzzle. Funny how when you look at a wall of a boxes and think that it contains your “life”. In a way it’s just stuff. Things that when I look at they make me happy. As I’ve been packing my stuff it’s given me a lot of time to think about the things I’m packing and why I’m keeping them. I do have a hoarding trait but it’s because of my upbringing. Since I was born, this is my 18th move (I think, and not that I remember all of them of course). But I’ve become a pro at moving in a way. And it’s partly the reason that I want my land and to build my house. To plant MY roots. I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere, that anywhere felt like HOME.
When someone asks you “where are you from” how do you answer? The place you’re born? the place you grew up? Your hometown? For me it’s not an easy question to answer. I was born in a foreign land that my parents lived in for a few years, growing up I never lived anywhere for more than 3 or 4 years until I came to Australia when I was 13. And my hometown is the place I live right now by default because it’s the place I’ve lived the longest. I don’t have any affinity to this place other than that. So I guess my quest for land and to build a house on it is in a way my quest to stake a claim in this world and make it mine. And hopefully something that my children will think of as theirs. The future is uncertain but it’s something I hope they will feel.
When I look at the things I’m packing, a lot of them have memories attached and I think that’s why I hold on to them. Because growing up and moving so much I was never allowed to keep things. I feel silly for holding on to two boxes of Barbie stuff but the feelings that are attached with that stuff are so intense that I don’t want to let go of them yet. It’s memories of my childhood and the place I was when I used to play with them every day for hours on end and make clothes and furniture for them. There’s like a golden movie haze that I associate with that time. My Dad built me this giant Barbie house and I was SO thrilled to have it. I remember sneaking down to the basement to watch him build it and wish he’d hurry up so that I could put all my Barbie furniture in it and start playing with it. Like a lot of my childhood toys I don’t remember what happened to it but I can see it so clearly and still treasure it whenever I look at my Barbie stuff.
I guess packing up your stuff stirs things up. Makes you evaluate your life and your “things”. Makes you remember the memories attached to certain items. Funny but I miss my stuff already even though I know it’s all in boxes in a storage warehouse. But the things I own make me happy and dare I say it, define me. They make up my past and present. So with them all locked up in boxes in a warehouse it’s freeing and saddening at the same time. Because it is just stuff and life is made up of more than that.
Anyway I’m insanely tired and as you can read, probably over emotional. Just another step in the journey. More ranting and housey stuff another time.
Have a great day 🙂