anxieuse abroad

I’ve moved between 24 – 33 times. At least. That I can remember. That doesn’t count the 3 summer moves home from college. Or 4 childhood moves my dad made where a few of the things I didn’t care about — like the small, metal, figurine of a young Queen Elisabeth sitting sidesaddle on a horse — were taken to his newer, bigger home where I had no real place.

What officially counts as a move? I moved at least 7 times during my 9 years in Chicago. Not counting the summer I stayed at my brother’s place and took care of his cats. I moved 4 times during my 4 years in New York City. Also not counting the fall I was getting divorced and after putting most of my things in storage moved from a 2-month sublease in a mouse-infested co-living situation in Bedstuy to the 2-month sublease in a cockroach-infested apartment in Harlem.

Moving. Sucks. And I’ve done it more than any person who wants to be sane probably should. I’ve lived in 6 US states, not including the few months I moved to both New Mexico and Wyoming to be with my dad but left a few month later.

I moved to Buenos Aires for 5 months and flew back to the US to get hernia surgery in Canada because I realized I was actually in an abusive relationship… that I followed to Berlin… where I moved another 6 times when I finally got out of it. I then moved to Portland, Oregon where I moved 7 times in about 10 years (including 2 homes I purchased and then sold) and then to Washington where I only moved twice before most recently selling most of my possessions and moving to France.

The upsides? I haven’t accumulated a bunch of bullshit. I’m really, really good at packing. I’ve only broken 1 dish in my entire life (so far — most of my current possessions are currently on a container ship in the middle of the Atlantic) and only had a pest infestation in my boxes once, which unfortunately necessitated jettisoning all of my childhood teddy bears. I’ve seen a lot of places. And at this point I know I don’t have to settle.

Moving like I have, of course, comes with a shit ton of privilege. I’ve only hired movers one time, but I’ve always had at least enough money to get the truck / storage locker / plane ticket. I’ve rarely asked for help, but I still have plenty of moving karma built up that I need to pay back before I get too old to lift shit. And I’ve been able to move throughout much of the West without issues. My visa appointments in 2 EU countries as an American citizen were a literal breeze. I anticipate my next one won’t be much different but we’ll see.

I’ve heard that I have a problem and need “geographical fixes” which may be true but means less to me coming from people who’ve never left the US metro area they were born in let alone State. We all need and desire different things to feel alive.

Sometimes it’s my anxiety that necessitates a move — such as the unreinforced masonry house in an earthquake zone or the sexual assault from a neighbor while gardening in my backyard. Sometimes it’s purely financial — staying in NYC after dropping out of grad school without a secure job simply didn’t make good sense any longer. And sometimes, it’s that I don’t want to get to the end of my days and wish I’d tried one more time to make it work in another country. To make that one big dream come true.