The costs of moving
It’s not in dollars — or any other currency — but in life experiences lost, invested, and gained.
I have moved more times than I have fingers and toes. Different front doors, bedrooms, views from the windows. Different cities, states, and continents. So many phone numbers.
From the time I was born, the place I called home was in flux. I spent the longest period of my life in Los Angeles, but never in a single apartment, townhouse, or house for too long. Thankfully, my school district never changed. Despite the twists and turns of my family’s residential address, my parents made sure that our school and social life was a constant.
I was twenty-five when I left LA to move to London with my then boyfriend, now husband, Joe. In the span of 14 years since, we’ve lived in two London flats, a high-rise apartment in Kuala Lumpur, a very temporary furnished apartment in LA, and in our own downtown condo in Raleigh, North Carolina.
After seven years in Raleigh, we moved again. This time as a family of four.
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This move hit me like a punch to the gut and pull on my heart about four months into our new lives in South Australia. The loss of friendships in Raleigh that had crystalized with beautiful facets over the course of seven years. The loss of my professional identity — who I’d become or had become known for. The loss of the sense of community we had created for our family.
Moving wasn’t new for me, or my husband. But this time, it felt like a whole new dimension of reality. My mental health took a nose dive as we dealt with an intense housing situation and the kids required all of our energy.
About two years later — after our housing situation improved, the kids were more settled in, and my mental health was on the upswing — I had an enlightening conversation at a birthday party for a new friend of ours. The woman I spoke with was fascinated by our story, and after hearing some of my personal challenges, she said “moving is expensive, and I’m not talking about the financial costs.”
Although I’d felt losses from every move in different ways, I had never considered these feelings, or outcomes, as costs.
She’s right: there are many costs to moving.
Some costs are tangible, like the sticker shock of shipping a container from the US to Australia in a post-pandemic world. (The first time we did it from London to KL, and then KL to LA, were less than half the recent price).
Other costs you don’t even realize you’ve incurred until you’re journaling or talking to a therapist about why things feel so hard, unsettled, so unrooted.
Moving homes often can feel like a balance sheet that’s never quite reconciled.
Until it is.
Because of this, I’ve come to see a net positive on the balance sheet — the experience of growth — every time.
Imagine life experiences as a Profit and Loss Statement. Our base point is the balance.
When we’re in a comfort zone, our balance can be pretty predictable to maintain; we know what’s coming in, what’s going out, when, why, and how.
When we step OUT of a comfort zone, all sense of predictability, comfort, and ease are shaken. Our balance sheet goes into a major state of flux that didn’t exist before this new moment.
That new moment gets us into temporary debt as outgoing resources fire on all cylinders financially, physically, emotionally, energetically. It’s like “spending money to make money” but with your life force.
But over time, as you chip away at this-and-that beyond the threshold of the new moment, we begin to add credits to our P&L. We begin to know what’s coming in, what’s going out, when, why, and how all over again.
A similar maintenance and predictability from a time before, but in a different context.
A different version of YOU.
I’m fascinated by the concept of personal timelines and how we jump from one to another with every and any decision we make.
Each new home has taught me something and forced me into a next version of life.
Each new home has created social, professional, and personal debts that felt like losses until, eventually, I could celebrate the positives of what I gained.
In many ways, the costs of moving can also be viewed as an investment in a bigger picture that pays dividends. Dividends of lived experiences that you would have never had had you not changed the POV from your front door, bedroom, and window.
The costs of moving can also be like a work of art.
Pointillism comes to mind here; It takes a lot of time and trust to put each dot on the canvas to complete the bigger picture.
Each move is like a placing a series of dots, or costs incurred, that you take for the bigger picture. When you’re in it, starting a new timeline, it can feel like the dots don’t connect or that everything looks and feels chaotic.
But then … then you stand stand back … like waaaaay back to view your work, and the picture is clearer. This moment of reflection can make you feel soooo alive.
Every dot made, every costs incurred, adds up to a bigger picture.
And the beautiful thing is that this picture is never complete! Similar to the balance sheet that’s always in flux … we are beautiful works in progress — in ebbs and flows — even when we feel like our base point is pretty damn good.
The costs of getting out of our comfort zones can be high. But so can the rewards. That is, if you give yourself the pleasure, and honor, of stepping back to reflect on your body of work, AKA your lived experiences.
May the costs, and gains, add up in our favor my friends.
Stay OPEN,
AMM
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I remembered that I’ve written about this topic before but in a different way.
Here’s What I shared on my Anamu Blog in 2013(!)
Image is from my Words Worth Repeating series … where twelve years later I find a typo ;)
Next week will mark our third international move and when I stop to think of what the universe has given us in the past three years, I still can't believe that it's all happened. Moving to London, South East Asia, and all the travels in between - it all began by getting out of my comfort zone.
Leaving that comfort zone of my hometown was the best thing I could have ever done. No matter how hard I may cry at times because I miss my family, or how many things get lost in translation when trying to live in a new environment, every day and moment has absolutely been worth it.
Leaving my comfort zone repeatedly has led to feeling more open and confident to taking new risks and seeking new experiences. Open to making life happen rather than waiting for it to show itself. For example, if you had told me three years ago that I'd be living in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia I would have said "Kuala wha???" - I had no idea that the city even existed! But once you start opening doors more and more tend to appear. At that point the decision is between turning the doorknob to see what's on the other side or choosing to ignore it and stay in the same hallway you're standing in.
I've been stretched so far out of my comfort zone that it's hard to imagine going back to my original shape. I like the new irregular shape that's been molded by everything I've seen and experienced, both the good and the not-so-great. There's a lot of life to be lived so whenever I start to feel anxious or worried about what's next I remember this: the rewards for letting yourself feel uncomfortable, awkward, or scared are worth gold. Just step out and keep going.
When was the last time you stepped out of your comfort zone? Took a new job, started a new business or hobby, moved homes, or traveled somewhere unfamiliar?
🎥 Bonus Notes!
I’m trying something new and sharing additional thoughts and personal stories on today’s AM Note.
Watch or listen below.
I’d like these to be shorter but hey, it’s the first go and there was a lot to say!
I also forgot to wrap it up at the end so I’ll say it here:
Thank you for watching/listening!
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the costs of moving and learn your own stories. DM me or add them to the comments below.