Moving, Mourning, and Making Space
Moving is weird.
It’s boxes and bubble wrap and that one drawer full of things you don’t remember owning but suddenly can’t throw away. It’s the ache in your back and the ache in your chest. It’s excitement and grief, tangled up in packing tape.
People talk about moving like it’s a fresh start and sometimes it is. But what they don’t always say is that it’s also a kind of mourning. You’re not just leaving a place. You’re leaving versions of yourself behind.
The Things We Carry
When I moved into my new house, I thought I was just bringing stuff. Furniture. Clothes. A few too many mugs.
But I also brought memories. Regrets. The weight of old decisions. The echo of arguments in rooms I no longer live in. I brought the version of me who tried so hard to hold it all together in a place that no longer fit.
And I left things behind, too. Not just the cracked mirror or the broken chair. I left behind the person who thought survival meant silence. The one who smiled through burnout. The one who didn’t know how to ask for help.
Grief in the Gaps
There’s a strange kind of silence after a move. The first night in a new place feels like sleeping in someone else’s life. The walls don’t know your voice yet. The floors creak in unfamiliar ways. You reach for light switches that aren’t there.
And in that quiet, the grief creeps in.
Not just for the place you left, but for the person you were there. For the dreams that didn’t happen. For the hard days that shaped you. For the comfort of the known, even when it wasn’t good for you.
Making Space
But here’s the thing: moving also makes space.
Space to breathe. To rebuild. To reimagine who you are and what you want. It’s not always glamorous. Sometimes it’s just sitting on the floor with takeout and a half-unpacked box, wondering what the hell you’re doing.
But it’s yours. And that matters.
New Chapters Don’t Always Start Loud
Sometimes they start with a quiet moment. A deep breath. A walk around the block with your dog. A foot soak in a storage bin because your new house doesn’t have a tub yet. (Yes, that’s real. And yes, it’s amazing.)
Sometimes they start with fresh berries in the fridge. A playlist that makes you feel something. A hug that reminds you you’re not alone.
New chapters don’t need fireworks. They just need honesty. And a little bit of hope.
If You’re in the Middle of a Move Literal or Emotional Here’s What I Want You to Know:
You’re allowed to grieve what you left, even if it was hard.
You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed, even if this is what you wanted.
You’re allowed to take your time settling in, not just into a place, but into yourself.
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to keep showing up.
One box. One breath. One duct-taped day at a time.
If you’re in the middle of a move, literal or emotional. What’s one thing you’re learning to let go of or one thing you’re making space for?
