The honest truth about relocating your entire life
My husband and I relocated to Birmingham last weekend from Glasgow. I wasn’t planning on blogging about it because I wasn’t sure it was that big of a deal. It would probably be the first thing on most writer’s minds when they start to type, but sometimes when you’re so deeply involved in a situation you disassociate yourself from the enormity of it all (a whiff of denial is definitely in the air here). I certainly do anyway.
I’ve been focusing on the little things that occur on a daily basis – making a nice dinner, rearranging the new flat, exploring my local gym – instead of worrying about the fact that we’ve moved 300 miles away from home. No biggie, right?
In fact, distance is only as far as you make it. Since moving I’ve actually reconnected with so many people who have private messaged me to say good luck, or even offered to come visit us. I’ve spoken to most people more than I usually would because I’m so aware of the geographical space between us, and I instinctively want to make the communication lines stronger.
The other thing that has helped me maintain my sanity (for 90% of the time) has been to surround myself with comforting things. I don’t mean physical things like cuddly toys but more like activities that give me comfort, things that help calm my insecurities and make me feel in control of my now non-existent routine.
I ordered an online grocery shop to arrive the day after we moved in, because I have wierd issues with food (for evidence read any food related post on this blog) and like to have healthy, satiating options available to me at all times. This is some deep-rooted fear of starving to death by the way, brought on by restricted eating for the last decade of my life.
Obviously I ordered some treats in there to help with my emotional eating too (I’m looking at you peanut butter) but overall I just wanted to fill our new home with familiar foods that I could use to rustle up a fulfilling plateful, whilst minimising my anxiety around meal times.
I try to make going to the gym a daily habit – for my mood as well as my waistline – so I wanted to ensure I could do that as soon as we moved in. Luckily there is a budget gym just around the corner from that flat and I was already a member so I just changed my location online and I could use it straight away.
I’ve never been able to find a gym with a regular yoga class, so when I saw my local offering four classes a week I jumped – don’t worry I stretched beforehand – at the chance. I was up for the 7am class on Wednesday morning and it felt great to be back practising a good habit for both mind and body. Did you know that early morning exercise actually gives you the legal right to spend the entire day telling everyone what you did and being a smug little twat about it?
So my attempts at damage control seemed to be working pretty well and I’d only uttered “I’m FINE!” in the style of Ross from Friends one or two times under my breath and it had gone unnoticed. All was well. That was, until we need furniture.
Yes people, the most terrifying thing about moving away from home has been having to purchase new Ikea flat-pack furniture and trying to build it before my husband got home from work in some sort of attempt to prove I can be useful. I’m currently unemployed, and after a two day stint at constructing and ruining two sets of drawers I’ve tainted any dream I had of becoming a joiner. There were tears, and many curse words were spoken but I guess I’m still here.
I didn’t fail, I just made a bit of an arse of it.
And on that note, let’s raise a glass to making terrifying life-changing decisions! What’s the worst that can happen?
