How Packing to Move Felt Like It Was Killing Me
Imagine wanting to do something for years, then finally having the opportunity and realizing that it just might be your undoing. This is what I experienced in the last two weeks of my preparation to move from my home of twenty-four years. I had “staged” my home for sale many months earlier and put many belongings into storage. So, given how sparse my home now looked, I was convinced that packing up the rest would be a breeze. I was so wrong about that! I didn’t truly realize how much stuff was hidden in drawers, closets, and all kinds of nooks and crannies that don’t get used on a daily basis.
In those last two weeks before my move, I could barely sleep. In addition to being on my feet 8-12 hours a day packing non-stop, my mind was still processing, figuring, and accessing what else needed to get done when I went to bed each night in hopes of resting. Even when I made the proverbial to-do list, thinking this might help my mind relax more at night, it didn’t really work this time.
Thankfully, I had caring and concerned friends and neighbors who pitched in, however, I still couldn’t get in more than four hours of sleep a night. I was taking baths and falling asleep in the tub, unable to rest once in bed. By the end, I felt like a zombie. I’m not exaggerating when I say I actually felt that I might have a heart attack or stroke, unaccustomed to running my body into the ground like this. On the contrary, I’ve managed to live a life of balancing work, play, and rest, and have become an advocate for self-care. Now suddenly being unable to practice adequate self-care, the idea of leaving my house by the closing date to which my buyers and I had committed, seemed more and more like an impossible task.
It was wonderful working with Imperial Mover. I would highly recommend them.
And here’s the irony: I had already spent months giving away, donating to organizations, and selling items! Yet, I was so exhausted from handling what was left, that I began contemplating the life of a monk, owning just the robe on my back and a prayer necklace. I thought of this the night my Fitbit began sending me messages like, “Take a deep breath…” and “Slow Down; rest.” I knew I was in overdrive, but after having set things in motion so many months ago to leave, I was not in a position to delay the closing date.
When I was in my twenties, I moved around quite a bit, but of course, most twenty-year-olds don’t have that much to move. My motto back then was, “Have comb, will travel.” However, fast-forward to the realities of mature adulthood. Just imagine that in addition to hiring a professional moving service to transport my furniture and artwork, I also had to rent a 26-foot truck and an additional van to move my personal belongings. And this was the most economical way to go. One company quoted me $8,000 just to ship the furniture and art, not across the country, but four hours away to Maryland. Needless to say, I did not use them.
It was pouring that night and there was a leak in the top of the truck. Some of my kimonos were ruined. I’m still waiting to hear back from Penske about my claim.
Why all this angst, work, and worry? I think it simply boils down to the American habit of having too much “stuff” and living in the era of excess and consumerism. Interestingly, if you had ever visited my home, you’d never think it was cluttered. And then there was the fact that, in addition to moving my own belongings, I also had to move my business. It was more than a notion.
Finally, due to all the packing, standing on my feet, not sleeping, and clocking between 12,000 and 16,000 steps a day in my home, I actually feel traumatized as though I’ve been through an initiation. With that experience under my belt, I’ve decided that my next home will be my forever home. I am staying with a friend until I find it, and when I do, I will root down and make peace with the reality of this new stage in my life.
As much as I loved my Brooklyn home, I always knew it wasn’t my forever home, since I longed to someday leave behind the concrete jungle known as New York. When I first bought my house back in 1996, I could park right in front of it. In the last two years, I had to park a block or two away on a regular basis, particularly if I arrived home any time after rush hour. I have also deleted the alarms from my phone that reminded me to move my car for alternate street parking twice a day. Yes, these are things I will not miss about New York life. And from now on, I will have a designated parking space. Yaasss!
And now for the lessons: Unless you’re able and willing to spend in the tens of thousands of dollars to be professionally packed and moved, or you work for a company that will do that for you, stay where you are for the rest of your life! Or, for those of a certain age who do not tend towards minimalism, and are planning to move at some point, start decluttering now. I highly recommend getting rid of what you don’t really, truly love, need, or use. And, if you are already planning to stay put, and therefore believe it’s OK to keep everything you own, think of those who will have to handle your belongings when you’re gone. Believe me, as much as they love you, they will begrudge the extra burden of dispersing too much stuff! So do consider letting some of it go.
This process truly pushed me to my limits, but I am making every effort to recover and return to a sense of balance and normalcy. I hope sharing my experience will inspire others to buy less, get rid of more, and – last but not least – give yourself more time than you think you will need for this kind of transition.
Many thanks from the bottom of my heart to my dear friends who came through. Thank you to Lynette Epps whose expertise in packing is bar-none, and I sincerely appreciate Lyn for coming through to help finish up the last of the last. Others who pitched in were: Nehprii Ameni, Arit Walcott, Sherri Hobson, SeGera Walker, Khambu Leonard, and Maat Kesa. I couldn’t have made it without you! I’m also sending thanks to my friends who could not travel to NY to support me but offered so much moral support: Joan John, Pat Shuford, Linda L.awson , and Tamu Al-Islam. I am so grateful to my friend Sensen Maat for welcoming me into her home while I house hunt. And many thanks to my spiritual advisors Maitefa Angaza and Omi Bade whose help was immeasurable. Big thanks to my amazing broker, Abdul Muid of IveyNorth.com. And I will be forever grateful to my sister, Linda Carter, who floated me through the many months my house was on the market. Here’s to new beginnings!