It's been an incredible few months. My boyfriend Jack and I moved out of our shared house meaning to move straight into another flat in Clapham. The intelligence of the world had other ideas and installed a roof leak and prolonged building works to the said flat in Clapham. The long and short of it being that 2 months later we moved into a new flat in Teddington having stayed first with my father, then my sister and then my mother. It was like doing a detour back through my childhood before winning the prize of taking the next step, the next step being moving in with the boyfriend...and no one else. No more flatmates, just us.
My philosophy is that nothing happens without greater meaning, and I was trying to work out what the greater meaning of this long extended, exceedingly drawn out and frustratingly prolonged flat move was all about. First I thought it was something like the Charles Dickens 3 ghosts of Christmas past, where I was being asked to look at the unresolved issues each family member brought up. Only that wasn't really happening.
What was happening was two things, the first and most obvious was that I was handling the situation somewhat badly...in other words I got really stroppy...a lot. So much so Jack's colleagues who were born to banter, didn't dare in my presence, instead turning the banter down into something more akin to kindness and empathy. And that prior to the last move to mother's (at this point I didn't realise we would need to), I phoned her at breaking point gushing that I had to offload immediately as an upmost emergency in order to stop myself stressing yet again at Jack. My main fear being that if I continued to lie on the carpet and deliver my woes solely to his ears, we would not be moving in together, ever. Mum was ever the saint and saviour, making an emergency date...in the pub where much food and wine was put before me and total permission to rant. It was perfect and restored order to my world; and Jack's for that matter.
The second thing was the reason causing the first thing, I had only realised in the year leading up to this move how much I wanted, needed and valued having a home, a base, a nest. Having realised this need and made efforts to meet it, the removal of it for what felt like an indefinite period of time felt like torture. On reflection, it turned out that I had moved 7 times in 2 years and had not lived anywhere longer than 11 months in 10 years so it was no wonder that I had a bit of a sore spot when it came to being and feeling unsettled.
The good news is that we moved in this weekend, on the day I returned from a fab fab fab holiday to Mexico with my sister. No sleep on a night flight combined with a full day moving into a new flat is certainly an interesting way to deal with imminent jet lag but it was sooooooooooooo worth it. I'm thrilled, we both are.
And the crystals? Well, I love my crystals and so have them all over the house. By the door I have some to help keep out negativity amongst other things and I mentioned this to a client of mine who knew I'd just moved in. She fell about laughing saying a better use for their keeping out negativity would be to throw the crystals at the heads of intruders. J
What pearls of wisdom have I taken from this?
- Share the load (of moans and groans) with more than 1 person...and try to include at least one person of the same sex.
- I really value having a home...and I love the support, stability and nurturing that it can provide.
- Trust. Everything falls into place when I remember this one.
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