I haven’t counted the actual number in a while, but since leaving home after high school, I’ve moved more than twenty times. Some of those are front-loaded because I lived in around eight different places during my college years — dorm rooms, apartments, roommates that didn’t work out, and all the rest.
This move feels different though.
This time, I’m moving in with my fiancée, who already has a fully furnished house. So a lot of my stuff simply “isn’t making the trip.” In the past, moving meant a truck, boxes, and a Herculean amount of lifting. This time it’s more of a sifting process — deciding what stays, what goes, and what was only being carried around because I never stopped to question it.
Honestly, that feels like a pretty fitting metaphor for this moment in life.
There’s always this belief that a move is going to change something. A new town, new surroundings, new people, a fresh start. Sometimes we convince ourselves that the scenery is the problem. Sometimes we think another person is the problem. Sometimes we quietly hope geography alone can fix things internally.
But one thing always makes the trip with you.
You.
No matter where you go, you still bring your habits, your perspective, your baggage, your fears, your routines, and your unresolved stuff along for the ride. Some of that is good. Some of it probably needs to be left on the curb.
As I’ve been sorting through possessions, I’ve also been trying to pay attention to the things inside myself that probably shouldn’t make this move either. Old frustrations. Relationships that only drain energy. Bad habits that should have been discarded years ago. Thought patterns that have overstayed their welcome.
The hard part is that change sounds a lot easier than it feels.
Even when we know something needs to change, actually doing it usually comes with discomfort. Sometimes it means taking an honest look at parts of yourself that you’ve spent years avoiding. Sometimes it means admitting that some of the weight you’re carrying isn’t circumstance at all — it’s familiarity. Even unhealthy things can become comfortable if you’ve carried them long enough.
At the same time, there’s something hopeful about that realization too.
You already know what the status quo feels like. You already know where your current habits, patterns, and choices lead. Maybe most of it is working great and only needs a few small adjustments. That’s a good thing. But if deeper change is needed, eventually you have to decide whether carrying the same version of yourself forward is easier than finally letting some things go.
Boxes, furniture, regrets, grudges, excuses — eventually you realize not everything needs to make the trip.
See you down the road.
Pete
Huryk Unlimited 