How do you decide within a matter of hours or in some cases minutes, what you need to do to that scarf that you had saved for the past 10 years hoping there would be an absolutely beautiful occasion to wear it, or to the stack of paper you had saved for a possible research material when you do your Phd. Packing and moving is difficult I think. I have this vision of myself as a nomad living out of a backpack with a small storage unit or loft somewhere, that stores the best of my trips and small souvenirs, and then there is me here..lugging old jeans that don’t fit anymore, a candy that I picked up on a trip to the west coast, boxes of clothes and dozens of boxes of books and crockery. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would become the person to scream at a piece of corning ware being packed without bubble-wrap and nestled in a cloud of shredded paper and yet I did.
The move has put a lot of things into perspective. It is making me reassess my life in so many ways and is making me question who I am. I have moved a lot, moved at the best of times and at the worst of times..and yet every move was in some way happening outside of me. I was an active part of it, and yet was nestled in this little bubble I created for myself and for the most part remained undisturbed. This one is dragging out so many things from inside the closet, that it is unsettling. I feel lost and alive at the same time. The hoarder, the perfectionist, the OCD personality, the planner have all taken a thump. Yet, I am persevering in some ways and am feeling defeated in others. It is going to be a long journey. There are days when I think about all the good that will come out of this move to India..and then there are days when I want to cling to the banister and refuse to let go and board that plane..I will figure it out. One day at a time.