AS I write this week’s column, I sit on the only chair left in my house, surrounded by overflowing boxes. Mayhem. I have been threatening this day for a long time and now that it’s here. I am strangely overcome with emotion. I am moving house.
The contents of these boxes represent different stages of my life over the past 16 years. I’m fairly sure that I wasn’t planning to stay in this space as long as I have done.
I have thrown out so many things over the past few weeks in preparation for ‘the move’. I have had the cloud of ‘I need to sort that cupboard, that room, those shelves...’ hanging over me for weeks now. Procrastination has been my best friend, the skill to organise has been elusive.
I have so much admiration for people who are organised and have things under control. Presently, my to-do list is never ending but if I at least shift this stuff from one house to the other, it will sort itself, won’t it?
Does anyone ever successfully complete a to-do list? I don’t think that I’ll be crossing off all chores as 'done' any time soon. The only way I work well is under pressure, and to a deadline. Today is D-Day.
I have tried to be organised and to declutter as I went along, in preparation for the big moving day. If God loves a trier, I must be one of his favourites.
A few weeks ago, I packed bags and bags of clothes, handbags, scarves, accessories, shoes, boots and delivered them to a local charity shop. I should have felt relieved to have this much done. Instead, I was angry. I was very cross with myself for having bought so much junk in the first place. My 20s and 30s were in those bags, and I had no inclination to hold on to much of them at all.
I can’t be alone in this. I see delivery vans pull up to my neighbours’ house almost every day with a package for the 20-something female of the household who doesn’t wear anything twice. I was that soldier. Never again.
I have said ‘never again’ a lot in the past few months. I have been on a steep learning curve. I’d say that as well as giving those around me a good laugh, I have driven them mad, such was my lack of understanding of the process.
Mortgages, advisors, estate agents, architects, builders, contractors. There has been a decision to make every single day. It has been difficult to have the courage of my convictions to know that the decisions I have made are the right ones too. Thankfully, I have had great people helping along the way, and I’m very grateful to them.
I have also had to remind myself that I don’t have to have every single thing in place for moving; there are many weeks, months and years ahead in which to get everything done.
We never do get ‘everything’ done in a house, do we? The never-ending work in progress is par for the course.
How do people move house more than a few times in their lifetime? I know some people who have move house up to 10 times. As a family, we moved twice when I was growing up. I barely remember the experience. Kudos to the parents for that.
This time, I am packing up almost half of my life and it’s mad. I underestimated how emotional this would be. I have rediscovered photos, notebooks, keepsakes along the way. Memories to treasure. I will happily leave other memories within these walls and move on.
Amid the moving madness, summer holidays have been limited to staycations. I visited Newgrange for the first time earlier this week. As we walked around the 5,000-year-old site and visited the inner chamber, the three circles of life, death and rebirth were etched on standing stones all around us. Those themes have resonated with me deeply this week.
Creating a new living space is a rebirth of sorts. It is definitely a fresh start.
Speaking of fresh starts, happy birthday to my wee brother, Ciarán, who joins the 40s club this week. It is a week of new beginnings.
