After three decades in this home, I find myself in the peculiar limbo of straddling two lives – not quite ready to leave but already packing up the familiar. What began as an exciting new chapter now feels like the dismantling of my entire history, one cardboard box at a time.

Every room that was once an orderly space has a small mound of something – clothes, toys, books, crockery, cutlery. Cardboard boxes are slowly taking over, each one half-filled with books, photos and bits of our past.

As I sort through contracts to cancel and new agreements to sign, it’s dawning on me just how many invisible ties bind me to this place. With my move to a new town approaching, I’m also discovering how deeply emotional these practical tasks really are.

Weight of Goodbyes

Packing has become an unexpected journey through memory lane. Every chipped mug and dog-eared novel has its own story – the brand new, unused vacuum cleaner (that I never knew we owned!) discovered tucked deep in a cupboard, birthday cards spanning over three decades, and a dried bouquet of proteas (the last gift my husband bought me before his sudden death).

It feels surreal to dismantle my life piece by piece. I find myself savouring ordinary moments, like the daily post-yoga coffee and gossip with my tribe – knowing that too soon we will have to create new meet-up sessions in new spaces. These special women saved my life after the devastating and sudden death of my husband. Not seeing them four times a week is going to be one of the most difficult things to negotiate. The excitement of a fresh start is genuine, but so too is the quiet ache of leaving.

Logistical Mountain

Gosh! Who knew relocating required so much admin? Sorting out fibre providers, cancelling household insurance, and figuring out how to transition smoothly from one work-from-home environment to another feels a bit like playing Sudoku blindfolded. My to-do lists have to-do lists, and just when I think I’ve got everything sorted, I remember another task (mental note: transfer my gym membership!).

It’s exhausting, but there’s a certain satisfaction in learning to properly adult through it all and on my own to boot (anyone who knew us well knows my husband was the planner and doer, while I just arrived for the final act).

Nervous Excitement 

Between bubble wrap and paperwork, my mind wanders to our new place. Will our fur babies adapt with as little stress as possible? Where’s the best local hairdresser? Having lived in this one place for about 30 years (on and off), the permanence of the move as well as trepidation about the unknown feels equally exhilarating and petrifying.

Mixed Emotions 

This transitional period has taught me that moving isn’t just about the destination – it’s about the bittersweet process of uprooting before I can replant myself elsewhere. I’m trying to be present in these final weeks at home while mentally preparing for a new life. Change is coming, whether I feel ready or not.

To anyone else currently drowning in packing tape and admin: you’re not alone. I keep reminding myself that the chaos will be worth it in the end.

* If you’ve been through this before, please share your best moving tips in the comments!