Megan Morton Is Moving House
At its worst, it’s hell and at its best, it’s cleansing. So why does a move bring up so much emotion in between? As I struggle with the physicality of leaving my family home and the emotional dumping that seems to be right on my doorstep, I realise that a mid-life move is as predictable as it comes. And, I have put myself – well, us – in this position.
I have spent many working years swooping into similar domestic situations where the woman (whether she signed up for it or not) is given the heavy keeping-the-family-home-as-asset baton. I have also seen so many people unable to find a new home to suit their changing work and family landscapes, simply because of the sheer level of stuff they have to move. After assessing the load, they decide that anything is more bearable than the selling, sifting and sorting involved in relocating.
Through my work in India, I have also been witness to a beautiful ritual some matriarchs carry out on their 60th birthdays. Instead of guests bringing a gift to the birthday girl, she gives each guest something of hers. It might be a vase you commented on or plates she knows you need. The idea is to do a mini-cull so when you do “expire” (one of my favourite Indian expressions!), your household stuff is not a burden to your loved ones.
With all this insight, I thought I would be fine to make my move. What I had in borrowed wisdom, however, didn’t prepare me for the reality. It’s not the packing up of talismans and trophies that has taken the wind out of me, however.
I have watched my kids happily pack up camp, throwing their most beloved things into box A, the essentials in box B and the rest into box C, and so on. It’s a secret triumph of childhood: the ability to move forward. For a child, moving is usually fun. New things. New playgrounds. New room set-ups.
““As adults we are told to ‘hang in there’, to ‘grin and bear it’. Making a move requires you to shift into a different set of messages: ‘life is short’, ‘seize the day’ … in mid-life this seems harder to process.””
As an adult, diving into that feeling of being free and full of possibility is much harder, even though it is something I have been wanting for such a long time. For so long as adults we are told to “hang in there”, “grin and bear it”, “things will get better”. Making a move requires you to shift into a different set of messages: “life is short”, “seize the day”, “go for what makes you happy”. But somehow in mid-life, this seems harder to process. I have found my head nodding in agreement with the concept while my heart firmly closes itself off to the idea.
As the process of packing up our belongings winds up, it is clear that one must succumb to the very idea of floating along. No longer in control, perceived or otherwise, whatever happens will happen. I find myself dipping into The Daily Stoic as many times as I am hunting down bad Instagram poetry.
I have learnt to see that feeling of freefalling as a gift. To rejoice in not knowing where I am going, what it looks like or even what number the postcode will start with (post-pandemic, there has been a lot of talk around it starting with a 4 or even a 3).
I finally feel gleeful in the openendedness. After decades of being so conscientious, so careful and calculated, it feels deeply good to be in freefall. Like I say to my children, box A for the essentials and then box B, C and D. Everything past box D is just baggage.