Today, for the third time (although I count it as the fourth which I will explain later) in a year and a half , I finally finished moving, not the unpacking, the moving part. I've come to a conclusion. Moving and two story houses should be illegal.
Moving I've decided in fact is a form of abuse. Think I'm being melodramatic or exagerating?? If you saw all my bruises, which make me look like I'm being abused, or felt my feet, shoulders, hips or knees you'd agree.
Moving alone is particularly sucky! This is the first time I've moved without any help at all. Although Admin did help me move three pieces of furniture it was only because they wouldn't fit in my car. One of the shelves is bigger than my car in fact. It doesn't count as help. Help would have been a trailer which didn't give me 10 more bruises. Help would have been someone turning up when they promised they would. Help would have been someone staying with me for another hour or two at least and help me carry bags of glass kitchen jars.
So I moved without help. Today I went for about 12 hours - 13 with an hour for lunch - and I didn't stop for two hours to read. I worked non stop, packing, unpacking, carrying, transporting....and I am EXHAUSTED! It is now 1am and I am more tired than I have ever been in my entire life. My knees, hips and feet are aching from carrying heavy things all day and today was not the only day I was moving. I've been moving for the last three days.
Moving is awful. I am not a stranger to moving house and I detest it more every time I do it. Moving takes something away each time. You live in a house (or room), you make it yours, you give the room/s a piece of your personality and you make it feel safe; a haven to escape to when life is hard. When you move you lose all of that. You lose the safe place and you lose a little piece of yourself.
To me moving crushes me a little each time. I have never, ever, in my entire life, moved out of choice. Every single time I have moved in my life it has been because of someone else. To be told to move I think is one of the worst things you can be told. You are being told that your safe place is no longer safe and that you must upend your life.
Now I'll explain the 3rd vs 4th time. I live at Uni. I move to uni, move no.1, I moved within Uni, move no.2, and I've moved again within Uni move no.3. However in the middle of that My mother moved, again. That means that as well as losing my safe room at Uni (twice!) I also lost my home. We stored everything so she could go off traveling. I don't begrudge her of that travel as she has wanted it for a long time, but I now feel effectively homeless. I would like to leave this Uni accommodation more than anything in the world but I cannot. I have no place to go.
I would not and could not ask my mother to stop travelling. It is not my right to do so. However I have an obsession with TV and it is difficult to watch Uni students going home, taking home their washing (which thanks to coin laundries I do but I do the washing not my mum!), and going to a place where they feel welcomed and safe. Uni accommodation I feel is anything but welcoming. It is impersonal, cold and cramped. And for some reason the place where I live does not provide a bookshelf or a desk with drawers. It is crazy because the two things we are expected to do is read and write.
I don't really have a point. I wish I did. At the moment I just feel extremely exhausted and frustrated. Plus I'm kind of lost. I'm back where I began; no closer to a place of my own I can make safe and stable. Stability is what I crave and I just hope that one day I have it. At the moment I feel like if there is a God he hates me! I hope he doesn't always hate me. I'd like to stay in the same house for more than 5 years - more than 10 years. That for me would be a dream come true.