Correction – moving is not exciting. Being moved is exciting, moving is just another word for painful torture one places on themselves because they’re bored with their current living/job situation.
There are a few obvious reason why moving sucks. Even though it may be for an exciting new job opportunity or finally taking the next step with someone you love, you can’t begin a new chapter without ending an old one. That means saying goodbye to family and friends you’ve grown close to, restaurants and bars that treat you like a character from Cheers, and the overall daily routines and customs that helped to identify who you were. It’s like spending hours upon hours building the perfect Lego house only to pretend you are Godzilla at the last moment and wreck it all to pieces. Now you’ll spend the better part of 6 months rebuilding so that someday in the not so distant future you can pack it all up and do it all over again.
Speaking of packing – after a certain age it’s almost like your shit has sex with itself and multiples in your closet. When I graduated college I was able to fit the entire contents of my life neatly in my tiny ’97 Saturn, without even trying. Now – nearly 3 years later, it took my giant ass four door F-150, a plethora of bungie cords, and the hopes and prayers of my mother & I to haul all my clothes, books, and mementos from California to Colorado. It use to be that I had a blow up mattress and paper plate dishes, yet earlier this week I stood drenched in sweat as we disassembled and squished into the bed of the truck my Ikea bed frame, mattress, and night stand along with several other “adult things” that moving now requires.
Then there was a 4 day, never ending (or so it seemed), road trip. Moving always involves some sort of vehicular travel (again, so so much stuff – where does it come from?!) and in many ways it can be soothing, but when has limited movement plus added stress and forced self-reflection ever produced a happier person? I’ll be the first to admit I slept for most of the first day, followed by random zoning out the 2nd – 4th days, but that was mostly because I was so stressed about having yet to find an apartment (or a roommate for that matter) that was all I could manage to do. I seesawed back in fourth between sarcastic bitter remarks and all out panic on all my friends and especially on my mom – the co-pilot of this adventure.
As if all the above weren’t enough, the pressure to “enjoy this time” is unbelievable. There’s tons of discussions about how your twenties is for traveling and moving to new cities, how it’s “all about the journey” and some more over the top cliches someone most likely read on Tumblr. Moving to a new city as a grown-up adult is the first of many situations you will find yourself in during your twenties where the hype overshadows the fact that’s it’s one of the most exhausting things you will ever do. Other examples of pressure induced happiness include getting married, buying a house, and having a baby. Just like those things, you will have moments where you want to scream and punch everyone because, although you are filled with endless amounts of joy for this new beginning, another – very realistic part of you is freaking the fuck out.
So what makes it all worth it you ask? What makes up rooting your life, packing all your unless crap, driving 4 days in a car towards a destination unbeknown and starting over worth it? The feeling you get when you realize that you’re not in Kansas anymore. You’re in a place where you can recreate yourself and experience life exactly how it’s meant to be lived – sporadically and to the fullest. Suitcases be damned.