I can’t believe I’m looking for somewhere to live, again. I can’t believe I’m packing boxes already, just in case. I can’t believe how many odds and ends I never unpacked two years ago when I went through this process. At the time, I was convinced I had covered all my bases and gotten it right. I was certain I would never need to move again.
Wrong! (Life has a way of chuckling at our grand plans, however well researched.)
The bottom line: Moving isn’t fun. Not when you don’t know where to go so as to build a new life, or where you can afford to even try.
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I’ve been paying attention to offhand remarks about small towns, thriving cities within a day’s drive, favored communities of strangers and acquaintances and mentions in articles. I consider all of it. I research all of it. I try to picture the pros and cons involved in each potential destination.
I cringe at the expense of going any significant distance. (Do I really have to do this again?)
Logic dictates that I need to shed and shed and shed some more, not only to live in a smaller (and cheaper) space but to keep the transport costs to Location Your-Guess-Is-As-Good-As-Mine as low as possible. So I ratchet up my “divesting” with a nod to the Salvation Army (that picks up larger items, to my relief); to yard sales and community swap-and-sell sites (that turn out to be relatively useless); and worst case, to my last resort — the trash.
When clothes and furnishings and housewares are perfectly functional, any absence of reusability saddens me. So I give away as much as I can… and then I give away even more. I’m surprisingly unsentimental about saying goodbye to belongings that once seemed so important.
My main preoccupation for months: spending hours each day on Zillow, paying attention to logistical details of blocks and neighborhoods and sites with commentaries that offer realistic views provided by residents; they document the nitty gritty of “lifestyle” factors that are essential — access to transportation, access to routine health care facilities, access to people.
People more than anything.
Cost of living, a very close second.
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I feel brave. Brave for plunging into the process of starting over yet again. Braver than the last time I threw myself into reconfiguring literally every key element of my world; although I am only two years older, it is more difficult. And I have engaged in this challenging “activity” in a more improvised fashion, with less support, and the experience of an unsuccessful restart still burning in my gut — and my bank account.
Nevertheless, I feel brave. I feel up to the task because I have no other options. And I say that knowing I am not as brave as I would like to be, or perhaps more accurately, not as blithely optimistic as I once was.
As with the last time that I started over, circumstances are such that I have little choice; what is my choice is to attack the experience with as much positivity as possible and altering some of the methods of selecting and connecting that I engaged in previously. Physical energy? That’s a wee bit tougher than two years ago. Mental energy? I’ve gotten pretty adept at generating enthusiasm when I need it, and I will even admit to a sizable measure of excitement as I embark on this relocation process. Trepidation is also close at hand, of course, but excitement is far more present. And that excitement fuels my bravery.
This is and will be a set of choices for me and only for me, which is something new. It feels like time.
*
I am writing — speaking words, actually — into my phone which is propped on the dashboard while I find myself stuck in a traffic jam somewhere on one of America’s major highways, an artery that I have been driving repeatedly, hundreds of miles, for the better part of the week and nearly every day. Where I am going and where I am coming from is of no importance. Frankly, it’s all a bit of a blur. And I’m purposely trying to stay focused on immediate next steps and seemingly small accomplishments.
Some of these next steps and accomplishments are ridiculously simple. Twelve boxes packed and loaded into my little car. Now speeding up from two miles per hour to 10! Able to hang on another 20 minutes without needing to stop for a restroom. (Good thing, in this traffic.)
I never expected to be hauling my things hundreds of miles in my car over the course of a week, rather than in a moving truck on a single trip. Suffice it to say that this isn’t how I anticipated making a new move, but Murphy’s Law kicked in relative to timing such that furniture and some of my boxes could go on a truck, but the rest was left to my own “alternative transport.” It’s a tiring and time-consuming enterprise, but hardly the end of the world, and easily overshadowed by the fact that I’m delighted with the apartment I found in a place where I can imagine myself happy.
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Boxes. Boxes everywhere. Boxes in a small space. Sitting on boxes, sleeping surrounded by boxes, and so far, one broken toe (yes, I ran into a box), one cut foot (not sure how I did that), and a rather nasty gash along my right arm where I fell, hard, looking up at stunning architecture rather than down at the uneven sidewalk on a morning meander.
No matter. Isn’t life better in the long run when we look up?
I am, however, struggling with remaining patient; one of my adult sons will visit sometime in the next few weeks and lend his strong back and two good arms to my efforts, and together we will make more progress. Meanwhile, I am unpacking what I can, trying not to overdo and aggravate my back or bum shoulder, and I’m relieved that I no longer have to go up and down three flights of stairs tens of times daily as I have in the past two years.
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Oh, the pleasure of being a city dweller again, walking everywhere and discovering a nearby house of worship, a place to pick up a spinach salad, and a neighborhood restaurant where prices are reasonable, food is delicious, and I’m comfortable sitting solo and enjoying my surroundings.
People. How I’ve missed being able to get outside, wander, and see people. People who smile when I smile. People who respond to phone calls. Friendly neighbors.
I can imagine building a life here. I feel hopeful. Now, of course, the real work begins: making a living, making connections, making friends.
*
I think about all of you who are also in need of relocating, reinventing, and retooling (like me) for so many reasons and with too few resources, and very possibly, far more challenges than I have or have had. All I can offer is this: bravo for sticking to it, for daring, for the audacity to dream or at least to attempt to refashion your life — whatever the stage of life and whatever your situation.
Your first midlife starting over experience may not work out. (Mine didn’t.) Your second may not work out. (Mine didn’t.) Still, each time you try, you learn more about what your priorities are. You get smarter about how to accomplish what you need to survive — and thrive. You remind yourself that you’re stronger than you think. You are truly brave.
And you are not alone in feeling fearful of what lies ahead or your capacity to meet the challenges you may face.
We may not be officially connected but I can’t help but feel that we are and can be to each other, here, a helpful virtual community of restarters. We will rise to the occasion. If we stumble, we will regroup and get back up. We will be as resilient as we need to be. And we will lend our ears, our shoulders, our experience, our ideas, our strength — and our compassion — to others who are going through similar transitions.
As for my journey — constructing a “life” from scratch once again — there are so many risks, so many unknowns, so much dependent on serendipity. And naturally, an enormous amount entirely dependent on me.
I know this: I am not content to disappear into an aging process that would be, could be, so much easier. A process of not caring, of accepting limitations as absolute, of not looking forward, not looking up — even if looking up occasionally leaves a small scar.
So, in addition to transplanting myself in an entirely new environment, I am again focused on a sort of midlife makeover, but one in which attitude and approach are more important than the usual physical aspects.
How will I do?
Well, I hope.
In any event, I promise to keep you posted.
*
As promised, here is one relevant update, January 2019, concerning the importance of knowing something about medical services available in your new locale, and the necessity of someone you can call in case of emergency.
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Thanks for sharing your insights into starting over, again. You are right that there is a virtual connection that helps when you’re going through similar things. I am soon to embark on a similar journey alone, 1 1/2 yrs after the last move, but to where is not clear yet. And it is a bit more involved and scary this time, as it will likely be transatlantic. When to stay in the same situation and location becomes less of an option or no option at all, it does take strength, courage, and faith to make the change.
And what is for sure is that new experiences lie ahead. I wish you, myself, and anyone else transitioning the fortitude and appreciation for the next chapter.
Yes, to all your points. I hope your search for where to go includes ways to connect to communities at your eventual destination. If you don’t have family or a built-in support system of some sort (work colleagues for example), not to mention plenty of money to help you resettle, it becomes even more critical to land somewhere that you will not be isolated. It’s also important to learn from the lessons of what did and didn’t work on your last “starting over“ experience. I am speaking to myself as much as to you in making these mentions.
I wish you good luck in your journey. Please come back and keep us posted.
I just stumbled on your page and I love it. We need more people like you!!! I’m thinking about a change but it is a frightening thought – I am a divorced mom to a 20 yo son and 17 yo daughter. I’ve been in Savannah for 25 years but I think I’m ready to be close to my family. My daughter will be leaving for college in a year. We are extremely close and I am going to miss her. I do love my job and finally have found something I want to stick with and I am thankful for this!!! I wish my finances were better so that was not a factor but it is! It’s time for a makeover – I’ve gotten fat and I just turned 50 – I do NOT want to be the fat, 50 yo divorced woman!
Great to hear from you DA! Your optimism is shining through your words and I’m hopeful to hear even more as you get adjusted.
Lovely to hear from you, Missy. I hope you and the family are doing great! xo
I can really relate to the challenges and decisions that you are making.
I admire your fortitude in taking action- so many people talk about how they want to move, yet lack the follow through and determination to take action since their fears are holding them back.
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I am not sure if it is fortitude exactly, Nancy Kay. Stubbornness? Recognizing it is the only way to survive? I know that you understand what it is to try your best to accomplish a successful restart following a contentious divorce and its aftermath. For those of us who can trace our “challenges“ back to a divorce of that sort, part of the so-called fortitude has to include leaving behind the bitterness and trying to look forward. Not always easy. Not when the struggle persists. I know you get that.
I know from personal experience that seeing an action as the only path to survival goes a long way to reducing fear. There have been two instances when we had to move to ensure our safety. We didn’t know how we would afford a move but the possibility of being carjacked or killed where we were was becoming too strong to ignore. In these situations there is no ambiguity, the real bottom lines present themselves pretty clearly.
“…a helpful virtual community of restarters.” I love the concept! As somewhat of an expert in that regard (4 states in the last 11 years) I think I’m starting to resemble that inflatable punching bag clown…sock him in the nose, he goes down and then pops back up. It’s just taking a bit longer for the rebound these days. But, as you so eloquently put it (as always!) none of us are alone with our fears, learning from past mistakes is important and staying connected with others who can provide support is key!
Yes!
Wonderful to read about your move, your feeling good in the new city, connections and possibilities. I think the divesting of objects is also a very important piece, creating simplicity and ease. So freeing. So curious where you have landed and wishing you a community of support and love, here online, as well as in your new hood!
To my surprise, getting rid of things that I genuinely valued was easier than I anticipated. It is about freedom, you are so right. But I have more shedding still to do! I’m going to rely on one of my sons to help reinforce my ability to continue making progress on that front.
Where did you go?
Did you have a job lined up?
Thank you for writing what you have. I know that I am not alone in trying to re-build my life. I find reading your message a support to me.
I’m glad to hear that sharing my experience is helpful. Starting over isn’t easy. And figuring out if your new situation will work for you can take time. (It can also drain critical resources — physical, emotional, relational, financial). We can all learn from each other and support each other.
I have relocated and am in the process of reinventing and retooling. After having been laid off from my beloved job without any success of finding anything similar in the general area I listed my condo and sold it within ten days. That posed another problem altogether, but I finally decided to move back to Texas. I was able to purchase a small house (no mortgage without a job, remember?) and accepted a job at the local school. The pay is much lower, but with my reduced social security benefits, I think I will be all right. Living within a budget? Yes. Having to adjust to starting all over again? Yes. Having cried for weeks on end wondering how I could make it, I woke this Saturday with the thought that, yes, I am going to be all right after all.
D.A., I am wishing all the best. This has been the year from hell for me. I finally begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Cornelia,
Are you willing to share what town in TX you were able to purchase a small single family and how you managed the in between of the sell of the condo and purchase of the house? Did you have to do a two step move and rent in between?
I have been searching to do a similar challenge of selling a small townhouse in Corpus Christi, TX, then use the proceeds to purchase a small single family property in any city. I am struggling with the logistics of how to get one sold and then getting to the next one with expensing as little as possible. Any insight of your experience might be helpful with dealing with my transition. I have been considering Roswell, NM, but I am not confident in that direction. I have recently learned that realtors where I live are not interested in spending their time on marketing a contingency plan. So I’m having to rethink a plan. I’m searching for a small town with low housing costs as I am on a low limited income which sounds similar to you. I’m curious where you choose to relocate.
It’s good to ear from you! Best wishes? You may want to consider letting us know (with whatever degree of specificity is comfortable for you) where you have moved. Your readers may well have helpful suggestions regarding living (and perhaps even connections) in that area.
D.A., I am delighted ? to know that you no longer have three flights of stairs to tackle! Transitioning to a new adventure of home. Courage. I absolutely love the photo of you with all the boxes of personal treasures including the very appropriate grandfather clock of time. Makes me smile. ?
At 56, we relocated to new jobs in a new city in February after the three boys had left home. The move has been great. (I really hope that for you as well DA.) But it has been hard. One thing I really related to in your post was about the injuries! When we first moved here I kept falling over, tripping, and injuring myself quite badly. I’m sure now that that was because ı was unbalanced by the massiveness of the challenge to remake myself, not just about the placement of boxes. Things started to improve about July and it has been all up since then. If you have flexed your instinct this time and it feels good now then I am sure that you will be right. More than right. Just expect and allow 6 mo of feeling constantly a bit freaked out.
Wise words, Maree. Thank you. ?
D.A., My property, my home, is on the market as of today. I have no idea of what will happen or what challenges may be ahead. I have no “place” to go.
You, your sharing of the truth of the struggles, and allowing your readers to learn from each other by sharing their stories is so much appreciated!
Courage!
I moved from the Chicago are to Arizona 3 years ago after a split with my husband of 29 years. It is still hard and the anxiety comes in waves along with some depression. I have not totally re- invented myself yet due to some health issues. I continue to work at it daily. Know that you are not alone. You can do this.