When I was little my mom was poor, single and very young. We floated around a lot living with relatives or in rented rooms. Things stabilized somewhat after she remarried but we continued to bounce around. I went to four different elementary schools and three different high schools. I have lived in four different states and moved out of the country twice. I never know how to answer the question Where are you from? because there is no short answer and any abbreviated version feels like a lie.
I was raised to be a gypsy.
Moving is like pushing a giant reset button on your life. With it comes the chance to make a hundred new first impressions, to re-invent and to stand out - to bask in the attention of being 'the new kid'. There is an adrenaline rush in newness. New house, new school, new friends, new stuff. Then comes the honeymoon phase. That time of discovery where life is like a long vacation, nothing is tarnished by unpleasant history and everything is full of potential.
It can all be so intoxicating-- addictive even. Once you're hooked you need it to feel normal.
My name is Chantel and I am a recovering moving-junkie.
In the past when life started feeling too mundane, too under or overwhelming, I wanted to move and if I didn't get my fix I would go through major moving withdrawal. I would scheme and dream and lash out at whatever or whomever I saw as getting in the way. Any smack of unhappiness, any 'failure to thrive' I blamed on a lack of atmosphere.
My most recent move was a big one-- the type I used to dream about. Berlin! A metropolitan city in Europe. The move to end all moves. And even though I love it here, (and I am thankful everyday for the opportunity) I realize now that no physical move will ever be the answer because you can't move away from yourself.
You take it all with you. Every bad habit, character-flaw, insecurity and regret. You might as well have packed them in with your toiletries.
So the setting has changed but I am still me. I eat too much, yell at my kids and waste too much time on the computer. My house is still messy. I am still more than a little selfish and I still don't have a college degree. I am easily overwhelmed, I still don't follow through, and my husband and I still squabble over the same old things.
I am still me. I am me in a brand new all white apartment in an amazing and beautiful city-- but I am still just me. And I expect that this move and this place will have a profound effect, but it won't fundamentally change me. Nothing can do that.
Except me.
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8 comments:
This was lovely. And true. Wouldn't it be nice sometimes if we could just have a vacation from ourselves? But I am glad you are loving Berlin. I miss you like crazy. So did my kiddos. Jeffrey thinks it has been at least a year already. I wish he was right.
Pictures of said all-white apartment? I want to see the outcome of our three day IKEA adventure!
Also... thank you for writing. And being real. And articulating your thoughts so well. Miss you.
Kell, Remember the part of the post where I said my house is still messy...not so much picture worthy.
Loved your post. We sure miss you and your sweet family. By the way, your pharmacist stars in a new commercial.
I discovered him first! I should be paid a scouting fee.
Miss you. Let's catch up.
Chantel, I miss you. Your sentence "moving is like pushing a giant reset button on your life" is exactly the way I've always felt, although I'm thinking I'm really to old to ever do this again. And I learned early that wherever you go, there you are. It's so disappoiinting to have all those weaknesses trailing behind me like an accursed veil.
About six months from now, you will hate all things German. If you can live through that period, then all will be well. Kisses.
Chantel, I dreamed I was with you and I wouldn't stop hugging you because I couldn't believe you were really there. You kept laughing. Miss you terribly.
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