On December 26 the Mode clan set out on a journey that promised new beginnings. A challenging journey that would lead to financial freedom, new opportunities and grand a d v e n t u r e s. We were ready. The truck was packed [literally] and the pups were set comfortably between meticulously arranged boxes and suitcases in the back of our Toyota Prius. It was 61 degrees, the sun was shining, and we had a hearty Chick-fil-A breakfast settling in our stomaches. We were prepared for what we thought was ahead.
In our preparation for our cross country trek what we failed to ponder was the reality of our future home. We talked trip details; finances and pit stops, bank transfers and moving companies. I’m wondering now why we didn’t take the time to dissect the layers of relocating. Here are some things I’ve learned…
I’m wondering now why we didn’t take the time to dissect the layers of relocating.
I’m culture shocked. I wasn’t prepared for the extreme melting pot that is south Florida. Whatever edge I gained from my previous four-year stint in West Palm is broken and rusty. It’s crowded here but no one is in a hurry and my colleagues can’t wrap their minds around why I would wear a skirt in January. I mean, it’s only 77 degrees.
Sleeping on an air-mattress and eating pizza on the living room floor for 8 days is a theoretical blast. In reality, it sucks. Sniping your neighbors internet is near impossible and trying to teach your full grown fur-babes that your mattress is NOT an oversized dog bed, is a waste of time. It only took twelve suppressing hours of white walls and empty spaces for us to abandoned ship; spending the weekend away was the best decision we could have made. Thanks Uncle Frank for letting us squat.
After twelve suppressing hours of white walls and empty spaces, we abandoned ship.
My mom is my best friend. I was so consumed with making sure she was okay with our move that I forgot to take care of myself. She’s been nothing but supportive and encouraging, believing in me when I can’t and talking me down from emotional cliffs. That woman has been through h e l l and back and the strength she digs up for her kin is unbelievable.
I’m a spoiled brat. I like my three bedroom, two bath, private backyard, finished deck, two car garage and quiet neighborhood. I don’t like leashing my dogs and putting a bra on every time they have to potty and I certainly loathe the 4.5 inches that separate my front door from my neighbors. I’m sure they are lovely people and all, I just don’t want to be able to see how much creamer is in their coffee as I’m trying to lock the front door. Jon says I’m serial killer clean but I blame our freshly remodeled home in Manchester for the bleach attack I ordered on every nook and cranny in our townhouse. I don’t do mystery funk.
Trying to find normalcy, after you’ve ripped yourself from familiar, is exhausting.
Moving cross country is exciting, scary and unpredictable. Trying to find normalcy, after you’ve ripped yourself from familiar, is exhausting. Jon and I are incredibly fortunate to have family nearby who have been a joyous reprieve among the stress of relocating. We’re also blessed to have so many beautiful people rooting from afar. Anxious to make south Florida a home and preparing to conquer whatever bumps we may hit along the way.
Stay humble, stay focused, and make no small plans.