Last Updated on April 9, 2015 by Heather Hart, ACSM EP, CSCS
The occasional “unplug” from the internet and blogging is truly a risky endeavor. On one hand, it gives you time to let the inner blog monologue unravel and the potential (or current) writers block to subside. On the other hand, a little time off can start a cascade of “I don’t want to be near the internet” feelings that are hard to break. And then the longer you go without publishing a post, the longer it takes to muster up the focus and motivation to actually publish a post. The blogging black hole. I’m leaning towards the latter scenario, though I know I’ve got work to do, so I’ve got to buck up and publish something. In theory, it would be easy to pick up where I left off, with product reviews and “how to” posts. (How about “how to not lose your blogging mojo when you take a week off“?) But it would be a shame to not share the adventures of 5,500+ of driving my car to South Carolina and back…three times in three weeks.
I learned a lot while on these road trips. I learned that Interstate 95 is NOT vegetarian friendly, unless you consider Subway and Dunkin Donuts a viable option for sustaining even blood sugar. And that multiple jokes can be made while driving through the town of Nyuck, NY. On our spring break I realized that 8 years old is the new 13, where you as a parent can’t seemingly do ANYTHING that isn’t embarrassing or “stupid”. For example, the fact that I don’t know all of the details of the Trojan War is grounds for some serious deep, annoyed sighs and obligatory pre-pre-teen eyeball rolling. All of this from simply driving past a sign for a town called “Troy”. Man, I love that kid, he is an exact clone of me at that age.
During spring break we experienced a plethora of winter weather: snow, ice, freezing cold winds…and one day of glorious spring sunshine.
I’m not sure when spring is going to return, but as a member at my gym said to me the other day: “this winter weather is giving me trust issues.” I couldn’t agree more. I woke up this morning, April 9th, to a fresh coat of snow covering the front porch, my car, and the landscape.
Mentally, I’ve unearthed myself from the winter hibernation; snow on the ground be damned. I suddenly feel frenzied with the need to spring clean…and by spring clean I mean purge my life of material objects. It conveniently comes at a time when we are starting the long process of packing up all of our belongings to move 1,000 miles South. Less belongings = less packing. I’ve become somewhat of a moving professional over the last decade, having moved 9 times since 2005. And I’ve learned nothing is more frustrating than trying to pack up decades worth of “stuff” that really doesn’t need to be kept, but for some reason you’ve kept anyway.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had sentimental attachments to “stuff”. Even as a little girl, I wanted to keep every art project and birthday card, because each one had some sort of emotional attachment. If it wasn’t emotional, it was a case of “well I may need this someday“, with me creating every possible scenario in which I may actually need that polo shirt I’ve never worn once, but someday will regret not having.
Now suddenly at the age of 33 I’ve mentally detached from all of the stuff, because after all, it is just STUFF. What matters most are the people in my life and the experiences and memories I create. Things and stuff are replaceable. And in my world, it turns out there is a direct correlation between a decrease in “stuff” and a decrease in anxiety. (Talk about first world problems. )
So my ideal goal is to trim my belongings down enough to the point where if necessary, I could fit everything I own into a car. The necessity being simply because it’s cheaper to move that way, and hopefully never because I plan to live out of my car. An R.V. on the other hand would be a dream come true. The American ideal of a white picket fence and a matching, plush, living room furniture set has never been one that appealed to me. Instead, wanderlust consumes me. I’m sure both have their advantages and disadvantages, but not being concerned about the foundation on my house cracking nor the condition of the microfiber on my couch cushions certainly proves to be less expensive.
Also, I don’t own a couch.
Regardless, we are South Carolina bound in mere months at this point. I’m a little anxious (we’ll have to buy furniture), a lot of nervous (we need to find jobs), but mostly thrilled for the new adventure.
And now that I’ve rambled, we can continue with your normal Relentless Forward Commotion posts…