One thing we can say unequivocally, dismantling our lives has been a process, and not a quick and easy one. At the beginning, some things were painful to sell or give away, but we quickly realized the necessity or wisdom of doing it. Some things we just didn’t care so much about. Some things we loved but we realized they were commodities, and could be easily replaced.
As time goes by though, the decisions get tougher and tougher, and certainly more emotional. We’ve left all our favorite things to the last, so now each decision is more acute, and often more painful.
What about that favorite coffee table we brought back from the castle when we lived in the Czech Republic? It faithfully held our television and DVD player for years, and it’s connected to one of the most wonderful times in our lives.
What about some of our favorite lamps? What about those gorgeous Mountain Hard Wear sweaters? The antique nightstands from the castle? The expensive juicer that made such a difference in our health? The huge desk I’ve had for seven years, the one that’s so efficient and useful? The kitchen table that’s so low profile and easy to clean, with its cheery pine top?
The memories are wonderful.
Once we sell our belongings, it’s permanent, there’s no going back, they’re gone forever. Do we really want to do this?
Every decision is both a walk down memory lane, and a concerted effort to project into the future. What will our lives look like in five years, ten years, after bicycling the world? What will we be like? Will we ever be able to replace some of these things? Will we want to? Is the discomfort of losing these just temporary, or will we always regret it? What incredible new things may be out there for us to discover?
We don’t have the answers to these questions, so we hang on through the emotional roller coaster ride and make decisions, agreeing that we won’t sink into regrets.
The whole process has made us look at ourselves, and our lives, in excruciating detail. As we strip our physical lives down to the essentials, we are stripping our emotional lives down to the essentials. We’ve been forced daily to look at who we are and who we want to be, in a way that would never have happened had we stayed here.
It’s both exhausting and exhilarating.
This is a huge, life-changing project. We’ve had to keep all the details in order and do them properly, but we also have to keep the big picture in sight and make sure we’re moving in the right direction and that everything keeps flowing smoothly – no big fits and starts and chaotic stress. We’re at the worst stage of the process now, where we’re tired and definitely on the edge of burnout, but not yet close enough to the end where we can kick back and relax.
Way back last April I wrote to Chelsea in California, “I want to be out doing things, like on our trip, instead of being in the house doing all this. I think I’m burning out on all these projects, so we better get them done fast, or think of a way to make them be fun again…it’s been too long doing the same sorts of things and feeling kinda under pressure about it all.”
That was seven months ago, and we still have an intense three months to go. We’ve decided that an unhappy journey won’t have a happy ending, so we are always looking at ways to keep our attitudes up. We want to approach the challenges with joy and laughter, not grim determination.
We look for small ways to have fun, and we make a habit of listing all the positive aspects of things, whether it’s about how far we’ve come, or how much fun it’s been to meet so many folks through the sales, or how much we’re learning. There are days, though, where we just need to quit early, make popcorn and a protein shake, and kick back and watch movies.
On the upside, cleaning house is significantly easier with so little in the house. The rooms look bigger and we swear it’s easier to think without so much “stuff” and with more open space. We’ve gotten enough cash through the steady sales of items to pay bills and buy food, and we have a clear sense of getting so much closer to our goals.
As we get through the emotional impact of closing everything out and minimizing our lives in every way, we’re realizing an increasing sense of freedom with the thought of soon having nothing to worry about and nothing to take care of except our immediate trip needs.
Thirty years of very full and busy professional and personal lives will soon be reduced to a vanload of personal belongings.
Think of the freedom we have to create our lives in whatever way we like…