I have never lived in any home longer than five years.
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.
CC