Something about change always makes me feel melancholy and reflective. Tomorrow I move out of my first real apartment. The apartment where I spent my first year out of college and first year in my job. I moved into this apartment just about three weeks after moving home last May. I remember calling my mom as I was on my way to sign the lease asking her if I was making a mistake. Ultimate buyer's remorse - always gets me. She calmed me down and said that I could live anywhere for a year. Well, roughly thirteen months later, I can say she was right.
This apartment has been a really nice first place, but I'm looking forward to what lies ahead. Although the situation with my new apartment is far more stressful and anxiety-causing that I'd like, I really do love the apartment. I love the character of it, the location, and just the general feel of it. Hopefully circumstances don't prevent me from enjoying those things.
What I'm not looking forward to is living in limbo. I don't have a move in date for my new apartment. All of my furniture and boxes will be in a garage in Kimberly while myself and my clothes will be at my mom's house in Appleton. Luckily, I do not have any sort of strong attachment to my "things" so I won't have separation anxiety or anything, but it will be a strange adjustment to live in a place not full of my stuff. This also means that in a few days, weeks, whatever it happens to be I will need to move. Again. I'm paying Two Men & a Truck to move my furniture this time around (I had a nightmare that two of my friends were carrying my big leather sofa down the stairs of my apartment and fell. Broke the couch and themselves. Two Men & a Truck carry insurance for that. I do not.) However, come moving day #2, my absolutely fantastic friends have assured me that they'll be there for me with extra strong muscles and a few open-bed trucks to transport from one ground floor garage to my ground floor apartment (up 2 or 3 porch steps).
I don't generally do well with change. I get very stressed, anxious, and a bit moody. And that's when I know what is coming next. Here I am now, in the midst of change, with no end in sight. Talk about heightened stress, increased anxiety, and terribly moodiness. Monthly hormones aren't helping this situation any either.
Basically, I'm in transition. I'm leaving behind of a lot of memories, good and bad, in this apartment. I threw away some memories last night while packing. And a few came up that I wasn't expecting, but they've been packed away because I wasn't ready to throw them away yet. So tomorrow starts my "in transition journey." I'll move back home and wait. I'm so incredibly grateful that my mom and Ginny are opening the house up to me, so even though my inside feelings may not agree, I am happy to be able to go home. I'm also excited for the next step in the journey, and the memories that I will create.