Wherever You Go, There You Are
My Musings on Moving and My Next Book
When I was a kid, I thought it would be the coolest thing to move. I couldn't wait to be thought of as the new kid and start fresh where nobody would know me. Nobody would know all the stupid things I've ever done since I was young and hold them against me. I thought it would be great fun to get shown around at school and have people think I was cool because I was from somewhere else, and in general, be a different person just because I moved.
But then I realized wherever you go, there you are and all your stuff comes with you. By stuff, I mean the sum total of everything that you are: your personality, your experiences, the way you see yourself in the world, the judgments you have, the way people see you – because if you don't make a concerted effort to change these things and you just think a location change will change them for you, then you're forever stuck in that image.
When I was in high school, all I wanted to do as an adult was move to New York and work on Broadway. I didn't think that I would necessarily be on stage but I had always wanted to be a Broadway producer. If I moved to New York, there would be a better chance that I could redefine myself. The summer I graduated, the movie Fame came out and all I could think of was, “I want a do-over! I want to be able to go to that school and do high school all over again and become one of those people.”
It didn’t seem possible I could go to college in New York, but I could (and did) get into UCLA. But I applied too late to get into a dorm, and I thought if I lived with my uncle, I would still be the same old Donna who thought and did and acted and was perceived the same way. For some reason, I thought I could only reinvent myself if I lived in a dorm.
When it seemed I was so far down on that waiting list that I would never get a room, I decided, I guess I'll go to San Jose State. So, I lived at home and everything seemed about the same as it was in high school, except I was traveling downtown all the time now, not just for rehearsals. I took too many units, got involved in too many activities, and did everything I could to only sleep at home and not really spend much time there. As soon as we somehow got the student loan (I can't remember how it happened because my memory was my father wouldn't sign for anything), I decided to move out. Now I was going to live in the dorms at SJSU, and moving would allow me to reinvent myself.
It actually worked. I got a job in a professional theater where no one knew me as Dawn's twin sister, And I was free to go out and stay out and do anything else I wanted without fear that I would get in trouble with my parents, specifically my father. I remember moving into the dorms in January of 1981, walking through Allen Hall to the music of the Go-Go's “We Got the Beat.” Reagan had just been inaugurated, the hostages in Iran were freed, and I had moved out of the house I had lived in since I was three and a half years old.
When I moved out, I was either told or thought that I had to move everything I owned out of the room I shared with my sister and into the tiny dorm room I shared with a stranger. Since this was more than 40 years ago, I could be misremembering the facts but I was not the kid that just took a few things and went 20 minutes north, leaving the rest of my childhood in my room. In my mind, I took all my memories, clothes, jewelry, vinyl records and record player, and anything else Dawn didn't claim as hers. A lot of it stayed in the dorm room’s closet and only moved back and forth at the end of each semester when I had to move out.
I learned early on that if you didn't want to carry around big heavy books with you everywhere you went, you should trade them in at the bookstore before the end of the semester or trash them because – let's face it – who is ever going to look at a college textbook anyway after they get out of college?
I learned that if you're going to keep memories, keep them as small and light as possible or you will be cursing them every time you have to move that box. I used to collect sugar packets from everywhere I went out to eat. I would write on them about who I was with and what we had done, whether it was a movie, a play, or meeting up with camp friends. I don't know if it was out of necessity because I needed sugar, but one day I started tearing up the packets and pouring out the sugar so that I only had the paper wrapper left. I could still read what I had written and had those memories without the extra pounds. Well actually, if I ate the sugar, I guess I would have kept extra pounds, but they weren't in the boxes I was carrying back and forth every time I moved.
I learned that it didn't make sense to keep your old sneakers after you bought new ones because you wouldn’t ever wear them, and they would just sit there taking up valuable real estate in your closet.
I learned that if you put boxes or bins of the same size in your closet, you would fit more in and waste less space.
I learned to downsize because the less you had to move, the more eager your friends were to help you. The more you had to move, the more pizza and beer you had to buy!
At the end of my sophomore year, I moved back to my parent’s house for my junior year but got kicked out at the beginning of the summer with less than three days’ notice. This was a move I had not intended, and it’s a whole different ball game when you are forced to leave a place before you're ready.
I don't know what my father expected me to do but I ended up moving into the apartment that I was coordinating for my boyfriend and another friend. Before I asked my boyfriend if I could also move in (an awkward situation because we hadn't really reached that point in our relationship), I had found the apartment for them, set up the utilities, coordinated the other friends moving out and basically done everything as if I were moving with them. I shared a bedroom with my boyfriend while our friend occupied the second bedroom. His parents never knew I moved in, so the rent was always split evenly between the two boys. I just gave my $100 monthly rent to my boyfriend, so it worked out to be a better deal for him.
I lived in that apartment for the 4th and 5th years of college and another six months beyond that. From then on, that was the longest I lived anywhere before buying my first house in 1999. From 1987 to 1999 I moved 15 times.
In the past 24 years, I have personally moved three more times while I have helped dozens of others declutter, stage, sell, move, clear out homes, and move into new spaces. I have helped seniors downsize, move out of their family homes where they have lived for decades, move in with their kids, and move into and out of retirement villages, assisted living facilities, and board and care homes. I have helped widows, widowers and adult children go through their loved ones’ things so they can move out and rent or sell the house.
Moving is not physically or psychologically easy for anyone. It’s one of the most stressful life events, and each case has its own challenges no matter how universal the experience of moving is. That is why I’m channeling my energy and experience into writing a second book, This MOVE is Making Me Stress, coming out later this year.
This book aims to help you plan, organize and manage the tasks of moving by dividing them into manageable pieces so it is not so overwhelming. You may not need every chapter for your set of circumstances, so take what you like and leave the rest for another time because this will probably not be the last move you ever need to make.
My family and friends who are realtors are already planning to give this book to their clients. What do you wish you would have known or done differently the last time you moved? I welcome your input, tips, and tricks you’ve learned along the way. Leave a comment or send an email, and make sure you are on the mailing list for news and updates.
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This Mess is Making Me Stress is available in paperback and eBook at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all online retailers, including independent bookstores.
