Living Temporarily
In some ways, I've never really allowed myself to establish roots, or rather, I've been conditioned not to.
When I look back at my elementary school days I realize that I changed schools 10 times between 1st and 5th grade. The change was partly due to a genius custody agreement that mandated I alternate years with each parent. I don't think they made considerations for the fact that my parents might move out of the same town or state for that matter. The other factor is that my mother, who refers to herself as "a gypsy", is nomadic at best and had a thing for abusive relationships. I learned pretty early on that you would have to pack everything you need into one garbage bag in 20 minutes and flee.
So creating a "home" was a foreign thing to me. I remember when Jake and I got our first apartment together I never decorated. Jake would beg for my opinion on decorating or ask me to hang something up that I liked. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. When we bought our first house in California I was a bit more confident that the world as I know it wasn't going to be jerked out from under me. So I painted, picked out furniture, hung pictures on the walls, and gardened. Then we had Sophie so I went through the expected nesting period. By the time we moved, our house was bursting at the seams. Little did I know I was about to be living out of a suitcase again.
After our well laid plans fell on their rumps, we landed with my in-laws for much longer than we expected with all of our stuff buttoned up in a storage unit and our 4 suitcases full of stuff. One baby and a year and a half later, we moved into our own place and unpacked all of that stuff. It just seemed like too much. We hadn't needed all of this stuff for this long, why do we need it now? The pile for Salvation Army was growing and growing, finally Jake called it quits when I started throwing away all of our pots and pans because "we really only need on pan and one pot".
All of this seems like it was training or conditioning if you will for living here in New Zealand. We brought only our suitcases (even if it was 9 of them) and our sense of adventure. We scored with a furnished rental which even had a few toys left over from previous renters. I haven't hung one picture in 4 months. The only things I've purchased for the girls rooms are a crib for Josie and plastic buckets to hold the small toys that they did bring. But, I am constantly finding myself wanting for things. A microplane zester for cheese and citrus fruit. A digital scale would save me and my laptop so much time and wear from converting every recipe. But I already have those things at home, in a storage unit. And I really don't want to buy duplicates of everything. Then again, what if we are here longer than the one year we expected? What if our rental doesn't renew and we are left with the bare minimum again? What if? What if? I am living in a temporary state again and I'm trying to strike a balance between being an uber consumer and starting a commune where we raise sheep for food and clothing. Ok, that's a bit dramatic but what I'm saying is I haven't got a cohesive way of thinking or feeling about this due to the unknowns. Some people seem so at peace with it. Maybe I'm just not to the breaking point yet.
When I look back at my elementary school days I realize that I changed schools 10 times between 1st and 5th grade. The change was partly due to a genius custody agreement that mandated I alternate years with each parent. I don't think they made considerations for the fact that my parents might move out of the same town or state for that matter. The other factor is that my mother, who refers to herself as "a gypsy", is nomadic at best and had a thing for abusive relationships. I learned pretty early on that you would have to pack everything you need into one garbage bag in 20 minutes and flee.
So creating a "home" was a foreign thing to me. I remember when Jake and I got our first apartment together I never decorated. Jake would beg for my opinion on decorating or ask me to hang something up that I liked. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. When we bought our first house in California I was a bit more confident that the world as I know it wasn't going to be jerked out from under me. So I painted, picked out furniture, hung pictures on the walls, and gardened. Then we had Sophie so I went through the expected nesting period. By the time we moved, our house was bursting at the seams. Little did I know I was about to be living out of a suitcase again.
After our well laid plans fell on their rumps, we landed with my in-laws for much longer than we expected with all of our stuff buttoned up in a storage unit and our 4 suitcases full of stuff. One baby and a year and a half later, we moved into our own place and unpacked all of that stuff. It just seemed like too much. We hadn't needed all of this stuff for this long, why do we need it now? The pile for Salvation Army was growing and growing, finally Jake called it quits when I started throwing away all of our pots and pans because "we really only need on pan and one pot".
All of this seems like it was training or conditioning if you will for living here in New Zealand. We brought only our suitcases (even if it was 9 of them) and our sense of adventure. We scored with a furnished rental which even had a few toys left over from previous renters. I haven't hung one picture in 4 months. The only things I've purchased for the girls rooms are a crib for Josie and plastic buckets to hold the small toys that they did bring. But, I am constantly finding myself wanting for things. A microplane zester for cheese and citrus fruit. A digital scale would save me and my laptop so much time and wear from converting every recipe. But I already have those things at home, in a storage unit. And I really don't want to buy duplicates of everything. Then again, what if we are here longer than the one year we expected? What if our rental doesn't renew and we are left with the bare minimum again? What if? What if? I am living in a temporary state again and I'm trying to strike a balance between being an uber consumer and starting a commune where we raise sheep for food and clothing. Ok, that's a bit dramatic but what I'm saying is I haven't got a cohesive way of thinking or feeling about this due to the unknowns. Some people seem so at peace with it. Maybe I'm just not to the breaking point yet.
I just want to say a very sympathetic, emphatic, "Amen, sister."
As a fellow dweller in the "land of the unknown" I totally feel for you and applaud you for being so sensible about "stuff". It can quickly and easily take over your life. We filled a container, AND a storage unit at home and still managed to pack 9 suitcases of stuff to bring on the plane. That's just too much stuff! Any room on that sheep commune of yours?