As I settled into his beautiful historic apartment a few years ago, I installed an under-the-sink organizer. I set all my lotions, potions, and other toiletries in perfect places, shut the door, and thought, “I am in so much trouble. I have so much stuff. I’ll never be able to leave.”
I wish this were where I could say, '“And from that moment on, I decided to live a minimalist life,” but alas, I did not. I happily created a cozy and comfortable life and lived exactly as I wanted to, under-the-sink accumulation be damned.
Now I am moving. I will start traveling full-time again and reignite my digital nomad lifestyle. Only this time, it’s reimagined for the menopause years and allows me to spend most of my time in my second home, Berlin.
But what will I do with the detritus of a life well lived here in the US? I am busy with work, writing the memoir, starting new creative projects (stay tuned!), and focusing on personal development. I want to spend the short time I will still be here in NY with my friends and place my attention on those I love and who love me, not spend my time packing and stressing about a moving plan.
So, I hired an estate sale company and will sell almost everything.
This is not the first time I’ve sold everything and started again. As much as I love beautiful things and thrive in a comfortable environment, I have little attachment to ‘things.’ I don’t generally attach much sentiment to them either, which has allowed me to enjoy lovely gifts from exes long after they have left my life without feeling any emotion when I look at or use the items.
The first time I picked up my life and started over was just after I turned 30. I was living in a small town in upstate NY. I never went out and met men or any new people. My life was a constant shuttle between church, where I led a young adult ministry, and work, where I traveled more than I was home. At home, I spent more time lying on the couch with my work email open, napping, than working. My finances were a mess, and my weight was constantly creeping up while my energy levels were completely depleted.
I needed to make a change.
I arranged with the company I worked for to move to their Minneapolis office. Professionally, I reasoned that I could travel less, and my trainees could come to the central region and spend their money to get the training I offered, costing my department less. I also thought a big city and a new environment with less travel would be more conducive to meeting people, maybe I could finally meet “the one.”
I packed up the sentimental things, stored a bunch of childhood stuff in my sister’s attic, sold almost everything else, had the movers pack the rest, gave my cat away to a good home, packed my 1997 Volvo X90 for a road trip, grabbed a friend to drive with me, and headed to Minneapolis.
A few days after we pulled into town, the movers arrived with my 25 boxes, mostly books and clothes, a small wicker chair, an antique rocking chair, two lamps, and other odds and ends, and I proceeded to start my life over.
Approximately 10 years later, I found myself fleeing an abusive marriage. I had built a beautiful life, lost significant weight, climbed up the corporate ladder, made friends, lost my job, met a man, married the man, and ran away from that life as quickly as possible.
I didn’t want much; I just wanted to be free.
I packed up my personal items, kitchen stuff, and a few pieces of furniture, and put them in a storage unit where they sat.
Over the next few years, I zigzagged across the globe—from Costa Rica to Berlin, Malaysia to the deserts of Namibia, eventually landing in Medellín during the pandemic. I collected lovers, learned the language of polyamory, and slowly learned the lessons I needed on this transformational journey.
When I returned to the US and gathered those possessions to move into the apartment in Upstate NY, I had 25 boxes and a few odds and ends. I started a totally new life. Again.
This week, my mom came to visit. She invited her friend over to help me pack up my current life in New York. I brought things from other rooms, cabinets, drawers, and closets, and they set them safely inside cardboard boxes, wrapped in bubbles and paper. They were always light enough that I could carry them myself if I needed to. I taped and labeled boxes and stacked them out of the way.
I am not keeping much; traveling the world full-time requires agility, not being loaded down with stuff. Anything I don’t keep to bring into my next ‘US Life’ will be sold about six weeks from now.
What I am keeping is currently piled in front of my fireplace, waiting to be moved into storage (pictured above). Can you guess how many boxes there are?
Yep. About 25!
This year, I have learned a lot about energy and healing and how the universe holds space for us to grow, not only waiting for us to get there but also providing all the tools for the journey. I have also learned about my nervous system, being safe in my body, and not blowing my window of tolerance by pushing myself too far.
Reflecting on this journey, I recognized the pattern of 25 boxes with each significant move. I realized that there must be an energetic line in the sand for me—my energetic maximum, so to speak. I can handle 25 boxes, but much more than that starts to feel like a weight and burden. I need the special things I have gathered around me over the years, but I don’t need everything.
Once we saw how few boxes there were at the end of our packing, my mom kept reminding me that there was probably enough space in the storage unit for more. But I could feel the resistance in my body to that idea. What is there is enough. I have enough to take me to the next story and start over, feeling comfortable and happy with my chosen items. (A few more things will likely make their way into the mix, but not many.)
25 feels good. It feels right. My 25 boxes and I are ready to start our next adventures! They will go to storage, me? Well, for starters, Mexico, then onto Berlin. After that? I’ll have to keep you guessing.
Have you ever sold everything and started again? Have you walked away from an old life to completely reinvent yourself in a new one? How many boxes would be your energetic maximum? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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