Tuesday, 18 November 2014

A love story: my bed basically never gets made

I moved house recently. My mum and I counted: move number 16 since I moved out of home aged 19. I'm 32 now.

My longest stay ever in one place (since living at home) was almost 3 years. My shortest stay ever in one place was 6 days.

So I've gotten good at moving.

Side note, hot tip! Always pack a number 1 box to unpack at the other end. Cups, tea, fresh sheets (or dirty sheets if you're me, it's a transition thing), a towel, soap, toilet paper, your phone charger and laptop - basically everything you could hope to need in the first 24 hours. Nailed it.

Anyway, everything I own is all unpacked and I'm pretty much set up in the new digs. For close to 6 months I had been house-sitting for a friend. Awesome place, old and friendly, quite like the new place actually. Most of my gear was in storage. It was a liberating experience storing pretty much everything I owned (which isn't a whole lot) and only having a few things to cart around. For a while I quite enjoyed that feeling.

A few other feelings came with it - and I'm not sure if they were a result of it or just a coincidence. Some nice some not so nice. I've had writers block for a long time, I just almost completely lost the inclination. There has been an emptying out process of sorts. It has been cathartic, I suppose.

It has been awfully nice to settle into the new digs. Poking around and investing energy into a space to call my own again. Not thinking about where I'll be next. Having my bedroom all kitted out again with my bed and my big old chest.

I didn't realise how much I would miss having my bed (I just did my mattress on the floor for a while which I quite enjoy from time to time). But it turns out I missed my bed. A lot. It's a good height, made from Tasmanian wood, understated and lovely. I sleep with my head up the "wrong" end, under the window, and use my old chest as a bed head. My sheet doesn't get washed too often (I don't use a top sheet) and the only time that old bed of mine is ever made is when I'm taking a photo of it (like here haha). My bed is such a friendly place to rest.

Did you know it's actually healthier for you to not make your bed? True fact. Something about airing it out or killing bed bugs or something.





What remains

Sometimes life bumbles along and either big things happen or a series of little things happen, and lines shift. Sharply or gradually, making way for new things. These adjustments are not always easy for some. But there are always changes, shifting lines, changing perspectives.

Life isn't always happy times. Expecting that it will be that way is foolish. It's harder than that to accept, I know, but it is true.

Things happen beyond anyone's control. People leave, people die. Leaving big empty holes in our hearts and sucking the wind right out of our sails.

It sucks sometimes.

And sometimes there is nothing anyone can say that will ease the grief. Sometimes we need to let grief be, to take its toll, to just cry or be still and trust that one day things will be different. That we'll adjust to this new normal. That'll eventually it'll be okay.