Reflections on Move #13

Let me be very clear, I HATE moving.

The process of having to go through all of your stuff and put it away in different boxes; the guilt you feel as you realize that you haven't justifiably used or needed well over half of what you have, the further guilt you feel as you realize that, under the circumstances you can't really pass these useless items on to someone else, and instead you have to just throw them, in the process contributing to the endless pile of refuse that continues to grow menacingly as our species neglect and irresponsibility continues to prevail.

Coming with all of that is the emotion that you feel about the fact that a transition in your life is upon you. The strength of this emotion is compounded by the exhaustion that you feel working full days at work and then spending your afternoons and evenings moving.

All of this makes me wonder, why in the heck have I moved SO MUCH?

Not including any of the moves before my 5th birthday (because who remembers anything before your 5th birthday anyway?), this was the 13th move of residence that I have done in my live, spanning across 5 different countries.

Fatal Flaw

Given that I want a job and a life where I (and my future family) will most likely be traveling frequently, is my disdain for moving my fatal flaw?

As every literature dabbler knows, every protagonist has a fatal flaw. The one thing which he cannot avoid which is his undoing. In tragedies, it is often what the hero loves the most, that hurts him the most. To give a simple Pop culture reference, Spiderman loves Jane, but cannot have Jane because it would mean he could no longer be Spiderman.

The only resolution I can see to this is that hopefully, my future moves will be more simple. This move couldn've been more complex, two people going to different continents, at different times, with one (my) parents both overseas and the family house is on the other side of the country.

Emotions

I felt particularly emotional moving this time around. Far more than normal. Especially when you consider that I had only lived in this apartment for 8 months, making it the place with the second least amount of time spent of everywhere I've lived.

I can only come to 3 possible conclusions as to why this was the case:

1) Now that I am older, I am more aware of just how dramatic these changes and transitions in life are.

2) Given that this place (Canada) was the first place in my life where I actually entirely constructed and created my world and my life and everything was done on my own choice (rather than moving simply because of my parents work), I therefore feel the consequences and costs of the move that much deeper.

Or 3) I have somehow become more aware of what I feel about things around me?

My feeling is that it is a bit of all three, probably mostly 1 and 2.

In any case, after 3 days in a row of 18 hour days, working army from 7-3 and then organizing the move, I'm glad its over.

And while I don't look forward to the next one, I accept fully the inevitability of its arrival, it is simply a consequence of how I have decided to live my life.