Moving is a pain. No matter how far you’re going, it’s stressful and time consuming to pack up all your stuff and haul it somewhere new. But it’s also exciting in a free fall kind of way, a plunge into the unknown adventure that is the next chapter of your life.
I signed the lease on my new house this weekend and moved in the first of my boxes. I have the keys in hand, a change of address pending, and the phone numbers for my three new roommates. I’m moving to a more downtown area, living with two more people than I ever have before, and sharing a bathroom for the first time in two years. Everything about my life is changing and I’m kind of thrillingly terrified about it.
I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really not the same person I was when I moved out of my parents’ house right after graduation. I’ve grown up a lot and that changed the way that I was living with my roommate. Things that were working, stopped; things that were hard got harder. So I decided it was time to move out and I genuinely believe this is the best decision for both of us.
I chose my new place for a lot of reasons. It’s close to public transportation that I need for work, nearer to the grocery store and library that I frequent, blocks from some of my favorite restaurants, and less expensive than the place I’ve been living for the past two years. Plus it has some very friendly people already living there, great amenities like a pool and gym, and the available bedroom proved large enough to hold all my books. I really couldn’t pass it up! There are so many positive things about this place that I know I’m going to love.
But I’ll miss some of the things about my first apartment as well. I’ll miss the spontaneous movie marathons, the Bachelor watch parties, the poolside BBQs, and the downtown view from my living room window. I’ll miss being close to the Saturday morning farmer’s market, and the New Orleans style bakery with the best beignets in town. I’ll miss the friendly staff at the front desk, the puppies in the elevator, and the movie theatre nearby. And I’ll miss the memories of friends and ex-boyfriends attached to the place, the intangible things that I can’t take with me.
I’m terrified to leave all those things behind. And though I know it’s not true, a part of me worries that the feelings won’t transfer to the new house. I’m moving less than a mile away, but what’s it going to be like when I can’t walk down two floors to sit on my friend’s couch in my PJs on a Monday night? What if sharing a bathroom turns out to be more complicated then I remember it being with my older brother and sorority sisters? What if this place doesn’t meet my expectations? Would it have been better to stay where I was?
Of course not. What is life without risk? Who are we without growth and change? I’m not the sort of person to make a decision like this lightly, anyway. I went to see almost a dozen different places before I found the right one. Maybe this new house won’t be 100% perfect, but I have every reason to believe that this new arrangement will work and that I’ll be happy. I have every reason to believe that the anxiety will pass as I settle in, that all this waiting and all this trouble will be worth it.
So what do I say to this terrifying free fall-like adventure?