One Week Until I Move to India!
Today was the first day I’ve really questioned myself.
I moved out of my flat and in with my Granddad. I’ve only lived in my flat for a few months but the people I lived with are beautiful people. It was a random flat on TradeMe, but when I met Kat I knew it was the right place for me. I could not have lived with more genuine, caring people. I will miss Kenny and Kat and hope their journeys take them where they want to.
I only had two carloads of stuff. All the ‘move’ done by midday Saturday. I was on track. Essentially, there are three options for my belongings:
1) Take to India
2) Leave in storage
3) Throw out
3) Throw out
Going through every single possession I have and making that decision was not as easy as I thought it would be. There is a fourth and fifth pile of ‘I can’t decide and will have to try again tomorrow’. After a day of packing, I had plans for the night but cancelled, I was too tired and grumpy. Talking to Granddad, he said that I was likely tired from having made so many decisions. Of course the second he said that I realised it was true.
I’m Suffering From Decision Fatigue
‘Decision Fatigue’– it’s a thing. Everything I touched had a decision attached to it. Hundreds of tiny decisions. (I threw out about 20 pairs of shoes…!). Towards the end of the day I was looking at things and having to talk myself, step-by-step, through each choice.
Perhaps my questioning my decision to move was less to do with any genuine issue with moving to India and more that I’m tired and have maxed out my decision-making quota for the day. I’ve heard that Obama wears the same navy suit every day because it means it’s one less decision he has to make. I understand that.
Way leads onto way, and I have been thinking about what I’m going to miss about Christchurch, my home.
Spring is so beautiful here. The magnolia trees, gnarled and twisted, laden with their heavy, soft, blooms. Nor-westers (I’m not going to miss the Easterly though). Delicate and wraith-like blossom, every gust of wind showering you with petals. The Port Hills, my playground, the place that challenges and changes me, that provides comfort and peace when everything else is in flux. The ease of friends and their welcoming homes, always bumping into people I know in every supermarket or café. Safety in routine and familiarity, and I’m leaving it all behind.
