One of my dearest friends is moving from San Francisco to a new city. She is moving to be near family, friends, and because her little family can not live in her little, inexpensive, apartment type thing in San Francisco. She does not make enough money for anything larger and her husband doesn't work. So... they are moving.
They are moving this weekend.
"When is your last day of work?"
"Friday. I have so much to do. I am stressing out. I won't get all my work done. We are packing Friday when I get home and then leaving on Saturday. That is the plan."
"Wow" I was stunned.
For some people, moving is just one more thing to do. It is easy, takes little physical or emotional effort. It just gets done.
For me, the emotional issues associated with moving happen a few ekes before the move, so, when it is time to go, I am ready. The boxes are packed etc. Even then, it is something I do not like to do quickly; moving can not be "rushed." I like to be calm, be ready, and leave on a good note.
My friend hates change. She hates moving. We are not talking mere dislike. We are talking hate. If she never had to move or things didn't naturally change, she would be happy. And yet, here she is, moving from her home of 10 plus years to a new city, no job, rent, and doing it all in a rushed state of mind.
I have no idea how she is surviving.
She is a very heart/emotion driven person. She moved to SF just before she married. They had a great little apartment in Pacific Heights, she had a great job, and yet she had an unhappy marriage. When she divorced, she moved into this little house. It has been her home through some truly rough periods - her brothers sudden and accidental death, dealing with her mom's death from our college years, finding herself, meeting her current husband, bringing in a step-daughter, and finally having her child earlier this year.
She tells me "I've been keeping tears at bay for some time now. I know they will fall when we drive away. I just love it here and I love that little house. The compromise for what I want for my family and the life that is here is a hard one to swallow.".
She literally grew up in this house. She became a mother, a wife, a woman, and an adult. She will change more, but so much growth occurred within those four walls.
I love change, love moving, thrive on dynamic situations. Yet, I consider my office of a few years, my company of eight years, and my house of 6 years... and I think that I would have a difficult time leaving. There is simply so much of me, of the Diva, and of "us" that would be left behind. Of course, it wouldn't as it would live on in memory, but... Moving can be like leaving an old friend - you do it and look forward to the adventure and experience that awaits, but you feel sad and hold on that much more tightly to the shared memories.