I wrote the following post on March 1st of this year, but felt the thoughts were too brazen, too self-assured, too unwavering in their conviction. I didn't want anyone to read those words and look back at them four months down the road and laugh at me for failing, yet again, to live up to the big things I want for my life. I've bolded the two sentences I wrote that night which made me realise that I really, really, really should not post this entry. While my current plans don't completely concord with my March 1st musings, I'd say that where I'm heading is a refinement of the thoughts running through my head then, not a tangent.
I don't know how many times in my life I've dreamt of some external force sweeping through my house and divesting me of all my worldly possessions. I dreamt of mobility, but put too much attention on things. I resented my ball and chain, but felt I couldn't live without it.
Yet, through all my dreaming of a house and how I would decorate and furnish it, there lay a stronger dream within me. This dream belonged to the 'real' me, the one who doesn't try to conform, who leads a fantasy life of her own designing, who knows that who she is is perfectly okay even if the rest of the world rolls her eyes at her.
This real me screamed at me yesterday. She made me take a good hard look at how I've lived and the patterns I always fall back into. She firmly advised me that I'll fall back into them in Manitoba. Once I started to listen to her, her screaming became the voice of reason.
I'm freaked out about my move to Manitoba. It's so overwhelming to think about packing and then figuring out how to get all my stuff from here to there and then tying myself down to a rental or worse buying a house right away. There's no doubt I'm moving there, none in the least, but all the scenarios I crunched brought more hassle and expense.
Then, everything came together. I posted to a blog about a different matter and that person posted a comment here. She led me to a forum where I began to ask questions and read. I Googled, I mused, I dreamt, I faced reality, and then I began to make plans. Last night, I took a slow walk through my house and said goodbye to everything. There is nothing in it worth my freedom, worth my peace of mind, worth my dream of seeing this continent.
So, I am in the process of researching motorhomes. As it turns out, there is an RV show in town and I will be spending the day there tomorrow researching possible models. What I am about to undertake, RVing in Manitoba in winter isn't going to seem like a sensible option, but I believe in my heart of hearts that it is the right thing for me. I have no idea how easy it will be to find a place to spend the winter as parks seem to be closed October to April, but I will find a way.
I want to rent a motorhome this summer to try life in one and to see how they handle. At summer's end, I will make my purchase and place in it only the few possessions worth taking to my new life. Then, without any hassle, without having to spend more money flying back and forth to Manitoba to find a place to live, I will, at the appointed hour, hitch my car to my home, embark with my cats, and head west. I will have all of October to find a job, if I haven't already done, so and a home for the six months following. I will be able to take just about any job anywhere.
So, that's where my journey of decluttering and purging which began almost five years ago has taken me. I cannot imagine my future other than in the context of my current life so I will not be making plans at this point. I will focus on meeting with my financial adviser to reevaluate my five year plan, picking the right RV, job hunting, and thinking about every purchase I make since I will no longer be hauling it from Quebec to Manitoba, but hauling it for the rest of my life. At this point, I am envisioning purchasing the motorhome in the very late summer or very early fall to give myself time to outfit it and then hold the rummage sale of all rummage sales.
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."