galaxy42

6' x 7' x 8'

I have to reduce the size of my worldly posessions to fit within those confines. Six feet, by seven feet, by eight feet. I'm looking at the mountain of things that I own, and I'm wondering how I can possibly do that. I'm too sentimental. I blame my mother. Every little thing has some emotional attachment for me. I only have two weeks left to prioritize my shit. Then, once the cube is here, 3 days to pack as much into it as I can. This is where all those years of my youth that I squandered on Tetris will come in handy.

I don't know what I'm feeling about it anymore. Numb, maybe. The excitement has faded into the whirlwind of planning and activity surrounding the move. No time to really feel anything one way or another. I have a fear that the weight of the whole situation won't settle on me until about the second day of driving. Then I'm bound to be an emotional mess, second guessing the entire decision to leave what I know as my life behind.

It must be done. The pull is too great. But why? What's going on that NOW--at this point in my life--I have the urge to uproot and throw myself headlong into the unknown? This is not me. This is not what I do. I take the safe route, always. This is very strange behavior. Some external force is at work here. I feel compelled to just roll with it for once.

"Buy the ticket, take the ride."

Yeah.
Indeed...

I don't know who I am anymore. And I don't know who I'm going to become. I'm eager to meet the new me. The me without fear. The me without "garmonbozia". The me without all the baggage I've been toting around for the past 30 years. The me who is free.

Tell me I'm doing the right thing...