I am preparing to move back to DC. For the third and final time. Like most things that I do it is a slow and deliberate process.
It should come as no surprise that I take the period of moving into another stage of life very seriously. And returning to DC is no exception.
It is a major display of my commitment to Joe and our relationship.
I am both terrified and exhilarated. More exhilarated than terrified, but excited terror has its place too.
Packing is an effort that I usually underestimate. In the past I have downplayed how much stuff I have, the time it will take, and the mental and physical stress of loading and unloading all my belongings. For someone who reveres logic and order, I have always approached packing with uncharacteristic disorganization.
Until this time. This slow and steady relocation is a physical manifestation of the opportunity to “take stock”. Of who I have been, who I am, and who I will be.
It is a lot to absorb. And I am very thankful for the time to organize my things as I pack them into boxes, sit and look at the growing pile, and recognize how the outward movement represents an internal shift.
It’s important for me to feel like my mind and body are moving in conjunction with each other. This process gives them time to meet each other so that I can move forward fully prepared to embrace the adventures ahead.