The Hardest Things About Packing (and Moving on in Life)

As the year draws to a close, so does this chapter of my life; living at a university residence. Whilst I’ve met some incredible people, done some awesome things and drank and awful amount of goon, I’m glad to move onto the next and currently unknown chapter. As I lay on my bed, walls cast with the shadow of my travel photos that lined them, bags, clothes and mess everywhere… this is not the first time I’ve packed my life into bags. Yet the same questions, uncertainties and feelings overcome me. So here’s the hardest things I’m confronted with whilst packing up my life yet again.

Create the most beautiful life you can imagine! ~ photo from
Create the most beautiful life you can imagine! ~
photo from

What does the future hold?

Whilst not even tarot cards can accurately tell me this, it’s a bit unsettling having so many options and decisions to make for my immediate and distant future. Where will I live? Who with? Do I need to start looking for a house now? Or maybe just a room? What about my job? How am I going to afford Christmas presents? Can I go to this party? Or will I be working? What do I want to achieve? Countless questions flood my mind. The thing that gives me hope is that I’ve experienced this before (when I was leaving London) and I know that if you make the most of every opportunity, learn and grow from every experience and refuse to give up, then wonderful things will happen. You just need to first believe and then do it. The present and future is in our hands.

Is this the end?

The end of some things… yes. And thankfully, goodbye single bed, see ya later noise/alcohol bans, adios cookie thieves and au revoir to the thousands of lizards! The hardest thing, particularly leaving London, is imagining your life without certain people, places and the little things you’re used to, and the saddening fact that you don’t know when you’ll see them again. A big thing that I dealt with leaving London was the fear of losing the new London Adelaide. I was proud of everything I achieved and had become and was scared that it would disappear when I moved back to Australia. Sometimes I still feel like I’m dealing with an identity crises, however over time, you adjust. It’s almost like you get to recreate yourself again. The picture below shows how much I changed last year and even comparing myself to the photo from last year, I’ve changed a lot from that girl too. We have to create the life we want and inevitably we’ll change. Yet some things will never end, the unique and special friendships (especially those that cross borders), the memories, the lessons learnt and the feeling of creating a home.  With every ending, comes a new beginning, and they are always exciting (and your friends will want to hear all about it).

February 2013 & December 2013 (St. Andrews, Scotland) More than just my clothes changed
February 2013 & December 2013 (St. Andrews, Scotland)
More than just my clothes changed

How am I going to move all of this stuff?

I don’t know how, but I just accumulate so much stuff! It’s not until you start packing and thinking about transporting everything you own, you truly realise it. Luckily, my parents are helping me do this (thank god). When I moved back to Australia from London, I had to fit my life into 30kgs! (miraculously I did it). And with all the of the stuff you accumulated over your time somewhere, attached to each thing is a specific memory that you just have to hold on to!

My best friend trying to pack all of her stuff. Proved to be challenging yet possible.
My best friend trying to pack all of her stuff. Proved to be challenging yet possible.

Reflection, reflection, reflection 

Maybe it’s just me, but I take forever to pack because I look through things, I reminisce, I decide if I want to keep it or not, I organise things, toss thing and look at things a bit more. While I pack, I can’t help but reflect on the year that has been, how I’ve changed, grown and learned. I then listen to sad and soppy music and look at photos, thinking back to all the good times. And once I’m done reflecting (and sobbing), I think forward to next year and how I want to change, what I want to achieve, fix, excel at, get involved in. Once I do this, I get a buzz of excitement and just want to get it all started!

What gets me through?

Even though packing up your life and moving on can be difficult (and you will no doubt need an adjustment period), the thing that gets me through is hop for the future, that I can make each year, month, day, bigger and better than the last. Knowing that my friends and family love and support me (and will even help me move all of my stuff). Knowing that I have goals and dreams to aspire to, and that the actions I take now are a step towards those dreams. Knowing that each night the sun will set and each morning the sun will rise, shining new light on a new day. I know it’s incredibly clichéd, but it’s true.



After each sunset, there will be a sunrise
After each sunset, there will be a sunrise

Childhood Dreams

We pull into the driveway and those reminiscent feelings rushes over me. Suddenly I was six again. There is the tree we used to climb and swing on. There is the cement where are names are forever engraved. There are the flowers that used to captivate us. This was a place filled with wonder and magic.

The fluffy carpet held stains, dirt and memories spanning three generations. My father’s little footsteps once toddled here. Photos of our family hung in mismatched frames; capturing those awkward school photos we would send every year. And every year, a new photo would be added to the walls.

My Pop’s white scratchy beard has not changed. I remember squirming when we kissed him goodbye because it tickled too much. He is a man of few yet wise words; still seeming content with life. I remember running through the labyrinth under the house looking for him. Boxes of memories gathered dust. We usually got scared before we found him and we would run screaming into the back yard.

The back yard is a child’s wonderland. Wire, pipes, trailers, bricks, sheds, trees and plants… everything you needed for a successful game of hide and seek.

Nan would bring us ice-cold cordial and we would come running, red cheeks and out of breathe. The smell of freshly baked cakes would drift from the window, my favourite, caramel slice! The dogs would glance up at us, their bright eyes begging us for some delicious treats. But we had devoured them before we had even noticed.

We would run around in circles, dogs chasing us chasing dogs chasing cats chasing birds chasing adults chasing us. The paisley lounge engulfed us as we shoveled food down our throats, mesmerized by the cartoons on TV.

We would have a bath and a shower at the same time. It was the most magical thing on earth. We would sing and splash water whilst playing with my Nan’s brightly coloured loofa. I remember seeing Nan remove her perfect teeth once, pretending I didn’t see. The concept was mind blowing.

We would take it in turns of who would sleep on the bed, and who would sleep on the floor. I remember always liking to choose the floor because it was exciting and it felt like I was on an adventure. My Nan would read us this gigantic fairytale books. I specifically remember Rumple Stiltskin and the Ugly Duckling. We had heard these stories so many times, that I closed my eyes, listened to my Nan’s sweet voice and envisioned a far away land. Eventually those visions turned into dreams and we were sound asleep.


As I lay in this room now, I don’t feel that different from six year old me. Memories are things that sometimes confuse me. You know that they’re you’re memories, but over time memories turn into stories, and the stories can turn into fairytales. As I run my feet through the fluffy carpet, I thank my Nan and Pop for showing me that a home sweet home, does not just exist in fairytales.