Three Moves in One Year: Lessons Learned
“Packing Queen / young and sweet / just survi-iving …”
Song parodies have been my saving grace during this PCS (Permanent Change of Station).
My spouse and I moved three times in the past year due to circumstances beyond our control. We also had our first baby about eight weeks ago. The past twelve months have been chaotic, to say the least.
One of our moves was in the same town—from our rental house to an apartment, when the landlords wanted to move back in. The next move was across the country from Missouri to South Carolina. The last move was from South Carolina to North Carolina.
Yesterday I realized I’ve lived in 18 different homes throughout my life. I had never counted them before. The angst and grief I felt when moving suddenly began to make more sense.
Each move typically brings on the same cycle: Denial. Anger. Anxiety. Acceptance. This most recent PCS from SC to NC was no different. We had lived in Columbia for just under six months. During this time we had had our first baby and enjoyed the first few sweet weeks of being a family of three. We lived in a studio apartment in an area called Forest Acres. The apartment complex shared an address with retail shops selling cookies, fresh juice, South Carolina fare and more. It was surrounded by tall, old pines. My days were spent working from the studio, lounging on the one couch in our living room while gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window-door to the pool below. And after the baby was born, she would join me there as I learned to care for and feed her. Columbia will always represent a very specific snapshot of time in my life: The time I became a parent to our girl.
People had welcomed us with open arms. We attended the ballet, walked the Saturday open-air market, enjoyed a piano festival, hiked a national park. It was hard to leave a city we had come to really appreciate. My usual grief-and-leaving cycle burst out in full force: denial, anger, anxiety…
While packing up boxes once again, I tried to think of the benefits of moving so frequently. After finally realizing the grief of these moves, it became easier to remain positive while accepting the challenges. I began to list out the benefits:
With every move comes a fresh start. I can reset habits, shed old ones and start new ones. And keep the good ones.
Each move has helped clarify what it is that helps me thrive. I know exactly what I need to set in place in North Carolina to help me thrive and I can execute on it quickly.
We have had regular opportunities to declutter our stuff and think about what things actually matter to us.
We have met so many amazing people along the way. People who make it hard to say goodbye.
We’ve learned how to delegate responsibilities between us better and have definitely gotten better in our communication while stressed…We still have conflict, but we’re generally better at talking through things in more productive ways.
As I continued packing box after box, I continued to reflect.
Change is daunting sometimes, but it’s also exciting. After so much change over so many years, I have become much more adept at tolerating ambiguity. I can handle uncertainty, waiting and not knowing. I am confident in my ability to figure out a way to thrive in a new place.
Some days I still cry, longing for roots and stability. For a faith community that knows my story and strengths. For friends close by who can stop by for dinner. But even with the tears, I have become better at starting fresh the next day. I’ve become better at putting one foot in front of the other until it gets better.
I’m eighteen homes in and nowhere close to stopping, it seems. That’s okay. With a deep breath, a good night’s sleep, and a few new song parodies, I think I can make it.
