In the last three years I’ve moved houses five times. Built five homes, lived and loved in them, then packed my things and said goodbye to them. In the last fifteen years I’ve moved twelve times, and that doesn’t count living abroad, a house fire or the in-between-breakup homes I made. No matter where my home is, I find ways to make it feel safe, dreamy and an expression of my style. I take pride in how well I usually manage the chaos of a move. I enjoy cleaning, organizing and designing spaces. I delight in exploring new neighbourhoods and discovering cute cafes or shops. I like the Home Depot runs and Marketplace frenzy. I make friends easily too.
My family moved cities six times before I was thirteen. The last move was to Calgary and that was the hardest one because I was old enough to understand my feelings of loss and it felt deeply unfair. I missed my neighbourhood, my school and most importantly, my friends. It was the first time I was sad for an extended period of time. And boy, did I lean into it. I wore thick black eyeliner. I listened to sad music on my discman while smoking Popeye candy sticks on the park swing. I wrote my friends long letters in the mail and chatted with them on MSN Messenger when it was my turn on the family computer. I played the Sims and made sure their social lives were abundant and fun filled.
However once school started it didn’t take long for me to join a marching band, find a group of friends and establish a sense of belonging. When I’d go back to Winnipeg or Comox to visit, it was a marker of time, of change. We were all growing up, my friends and I were different and it was no longer my home. Although I’m grateful for those visits, I always cried a little on the way home, saying goodbye all over again and being reminded of the impermanence of life.
I think my ability to adapt is shaped in part by my personality, and in part by growing up with a parent in the military. Moving is more than just the overwhelming labour and time cost, it’s ranked as one of the most stressful life events. In fact, “relocation depression” is when one’s health suffers due to the intense disruption in routine, the fear of the unknown, and the loss of a past home and community. Even if the circumstances are positive — like moving in with a partner, a promotion in a new city, or upsizing a home — we still feel the distressing impact of such a big change.
This most recent move (only from one neighbourhood in Toronto to another) has been particularly stressful. I wonder what’s made this time throw me off more than the others. I’ve been forgetful, irritable and easily overwhelmed. I’ve cried a lot. I felt far from my friends, uninspired and disconnected from myself. Maybe it’s awakened parts of my younger self, relating to moves and changes. Maybe combined with a new wife, a new career, a new school, a still (relatively) new city - it’s been a lot. Around this time last summer I moved from Montreal to Toronto. Maybe it’s the memory of the month or maybe I’m still processing the life changes since then.
I miss my past life in Montreal, I miss my sunny apartment and my favourite places. I miss the feeling of always knowing where I am and being able to find my way with my eyes closed. I miss my friends.
But I know that when I go back, it isn’t the same. I’m not the same. Change is life, it’s nature and time. I also know that friends come and go and we’re all out there living our lives. Even if moving is distressing, it’s healthy to engage with new environments, ideas and people. It’s rewiring neural pathways which keep us flexible, inspired and brave. Fear of uncertainty is natural but stepping outside our comfort zones (or being forced to) can bring so many fruits, maybe even more than we imagined possible.
This move, like all the others that have come before it, marks the start of a new chapter. I’m excited to create a new routine, build a home with my love and discover this part of the city. I am giving myself permission to be slow, forgetful, a little lazy and to enjoy what’s left of the summer. As I write this, a bird poo’ed on my arm. A day ago that would’ve sent me into a meltdown but today I’m taking it as a symbol of good luck and a sign to enjoy the rest of the day. Maybe I’ll call one of my old friends or write a letter 🌷
All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God
Is Change.
-Octavia Bulter, Parable of the Talents
Care strategies during moves 🪴
Taking housework time outs: go for a walk, call a friend, do yoga nidra, see a film
Prioritizing self care as much as possible: a good nights sleep, drink lots of water
Meal prepping for move days (I didn’t actually do this last week but I thought about how useful it would’ve been to have some pasta salad or energy balls on hand) 🥑
Download a couple good podcasts or audiobooks
Holding a goodbye ritual in the old space (however that feels right to you) and an arrival ritual in the new one ✨
Pack a suitcase for the week of the move so your essentials are in one spot
If possible, pay for movers. Pay for painters. Hire a TaskRabbit for those heavy bookshelves. Save your time, back & shoulders, favours from friends and problem solving braincells. Leave it to the pros!
Give yourself lots of love and have patience in the process. It takes TIME. 🤍
p.s. - I share all of this with you but it’s mostly advice to myself! 😅