I have seriously been relocating since I was 18. I have packed up everything and crossed international borders four times in my life. Not to mention the amount of apartments I've had in the last 4 years alone. I moved to Australia in 2007 and have moved house 4 times. That's once year which is once a year too fucking many.  I am moving to Melbourne from Perth. For those who aren't up to speed with Australian geography, Perth is west west yo! and Melbs is east.  It's a 5 hour flight with a 2 hour time difference to boot. Yup, it's a big ass island is this one! I am relocating for work reasons mainly but the bigger picture is, is that I am not Australian and I have only lived in the one city the entire time I have resided down under.  Apparently I'm 'gonna love Melbourne'....I am quite moist when I think about this new adventure but a little sad to leave behind a tiny city in Aus that has always made me feel really welcome.  They say moving is as stressful as a death in the family, I reckon it's worse.

I think the 'stress' that comes in to play is only partly due to it being a lot of hard and boring work but it's the emotional roller coaster that is exhausting.  Us humans hoard a lot of 'stuff'. Even those smug assholes who carry the 'travel light' mantra will be surprised at how much shit they have when they begin to scratch the surface.  Oh and how scratching the surface can make stuff bleed!  For example, when packing up I discovered an old shoe box that contained every single birthday card I have received from my parents and grandparents starting right from my first birthday.  Um, how this has managed to travel the globe with me I'll never know. What do you do with this shit? It's not like I sit there once a year reading old birthday cards while eating birthday cake and reminiscing about my third birthday party now is it?  BUT...do you know how heart wrenching it is to just throw shit like that away? THE GUILT! Oh the fucking guilt. You just feel like a bad person with a heart of stone when you throw something like that in the bin on top of last nights left over dinner innit?

This is what I mean about the emotional ups, downs and turnarounds. You look around you a couple of nights before packing and you're like, 'meh, I don't have that much stuff' and THEN you start opening cupboards and drawers and you're like, 'OH fuck.' I am all about silver linings and finding the upside in shit situations, so when I think of the devastating floods and earthquakes, I can't help to feel slightly jel that at least they got rid of all their crap. I mean, if a flood came through my house and washed away my 4 broken swivel Nokia mobile phones, my box of old birthday cards, my box of 'just in case' shit which involves a My Little Pony birthday invitation pad (because you never know), 673 clothing items that I will never wear again in a million years but I keep because someday I might, my collection of cookie cutters even though the last time I baked was 2004....to name a few.  These are things I forget I even have until I move house and I come across them and then reach the proverbial fork in the road....do I chuck it or do I continue to carry it around with me like a gangrenous limb?  If I forgot I even had this crap I wouldn't even miss it, ya know? Hence why I think it would be the silver lining of a natural disaster because something bigger than me just comes along and makes the fucking decision for me. (I'm always paranoid I use the word 'hence' incorrectly so feel free to correct me, I need to learn)

Moving is emotionally draining because of the all day long nostalgia. Coming across old photos, nick nacks and souvenirs that transport you back to happy, sad or crazy times. One minute you are gazing at an old photo of when you and your best friend from when you were 13 the next you are stumbling across movie stubs you kept from the dates you went on with your ex. (I legit threw away 2 movie tickets from when I watched 'Hitch' at Shepherds Bush cinemas the other day) all while you are sweating and lifting and packing you are forced into going back in time and it's draining. But would we have it any other way? Do we want to walk into a stark white room with no signs that anyone ever lived there? Do you want Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones to walk in and make you forget everything up until todays date?  No bloody way. This is why I decided that on my move from Perth to Melbourne I would assign myself 10 boxes for everything. Whatever didn't make it got chucked because there is no shoe box, Ikea storage system or bottom kitchen drawer that can hold anything better than the grey matter between my ears. This way, I carry everything with me wherever I go, there is no charge for excess luggage and home is wherever I am.