As someone who has moved more than 66 time in her life I should be prepared for this change. After all I only moved here in February this year. But I am not. I grew comfortable where I am. I felt safe here, loved here. I am not ready to return to being on my own. But I will survive.
I sat down recently and counted how many times I have moved in my life. I stopped at 66. There were likely a few I missed but I figured that was an easy number to remember. Except it was exactly ten years ago my sister and I counted it up and I was sitting at 34 moves at that time. I never thought I would double my life time moves in a mere ten years but somehow I did it. I am not proud of that.
Moving was a mixed bag as a kid. Usually we did it to leave something bad behind. Other times we did it for a fresh start. Then there were times we did it for other reasons such as needing a change. Whatever the reason was it always went through cycles of fear, then anxiety, followed by relief we were gone then stress of settling into a strange new place.
I never cared for moving. When I bought my home two years ago I thought it was going to be where I lived out my days. I knew I couldn’t be me in public, at least not on the property because of the family land I was living on, but I had a space that was my own. I bought wood paneling to put on the walls to make it feel more like a trailer house. I bought bricks to make a path to the garden. I planted a vegetable garden and flower garden. I was building a fence to get me a goat. I was going to have a small mini farm and live out my days close to nature. That changed.
Now I am a city dweller days, mere days away from moving into a tiny apartment in Dallas. Not a suburb of Dallas, not a city in the DFW metroplex but Dallas proper. I am about to be in the think of the concrete jungle. Surrounded by man-made mountains that serve as monuments to American consumerism, nay, American capitalism.
As a nature witch I crave closeness with Mother Earth. I desire to be surrounded by her trees. To walk, barefoot, upon her dirt and feel her grass between my toes. I ache for he quiet skies filled to the brim with stars. I desire the soothing sounds of crickets and birds quietly whispering their “I-Love-You’s” to their respective mates. I even miss the peace and quite from being so far removed from the traffic.
I am setting off on a new adventure. This is one I can say has me scared. I have never lived in a proper city before. The largest populated area before this I lived was 47,000~ people. It was an isolated rural Mormon town in the desert of southern Idaho. I don’t long for nor miss that place but it felt big and scary to me when I lived there.
I won’t make city dwelling my permanent lifestyle. I desire to get back to the country where I can be close to nature as soon as I can. I need to develop a plan that I can stick with. Then I need to stick to the plan. I failed to do that before. I kind of stumbled into my last country home. I want my next one to be bough with a purpose.
Right now my heart is filled with anxiety. I have to pack. I have to climb up and down three flights of stairs. I have to make phone calls to connect utilities. I have to coordinate with the cable guy to bring internet into my home. These things cause me heartburn. I have done this all too many times. I expect, yes, having a quite space all to myself will improve my mental health. It will allow me to practice my witchcraft in peace. I expect I will also enjoy having a place I can call my own. Yet I sit here afraid of being alone once more. I am afraid of standing on my own poised to fail as I’ve done time and time again. I have no other words but this move is necessary. That alone doesn’t comfort me.
Worst of all I fear my soul will wither as I move further from the nature I love.
Stephanie Bri 