Brenna Without Borders

I’ve made a lot of bold decisions in my life. I spent 6 months living in the jungles of the Caribbean, I jumped off a 35-foot tall cliff, walked solo through the south side in Pittsburgh at 4 in the morning, I rode out a hurricane in Belize.  But none of those things have scared me as much as packing up my entire life and moving to a new city where I know no one but my significant other. 

Let me preference by saying, this has been a long time coming. Every day since Garrett moved on March 23, 2020, I have dreamed about moving to Georgia. I had looked at jobs and apartments and houses. I researched volunteer opportunities and churches to join. 

But when it finally came time to do it, you would have thought I never saw it coming. The fantasy I loved, the reality of it actually happening scared me much more. Of course, I was excited, but I became a lot more emotional than I would have expected. I cried a lot. We never really know how we are going to feel about the things we want most until we actually get them. 

I recently listened to a podcast by Brene Brown where she was discussing birth order and how each of those individuals responds in a crisis.  When speaking of the youngest child, she said that often youngest children get overwhelmed and freeze not knowing what to do. They underperform. They do nothing.  While there is no scientific evidence to back this up, Brene believes it to be true and so do I.  She went on to explain that the youngest child gets used to having things done for them, handed to them, being protected by their parents and older siblings.  So when it comes time for us to step up, it’s a big challenge. 

Once my decision was made to move, there actually was not much time to think. I had to get moving. Yet I felt frozen in my shoes, not knowing what to do first or how I was going to get it all done. The list of tasks I had to do seemed never-ending. I pulled on my big girl pants and got to work. One little “to-do” at a time. Organized by priority level. This is what I have to do when I begin to feel overwhelmed. If I let myself, I will sink into a pile of mush, I will freeze in time overwhelmed by the never-ending to-do list. So I had two options, I could freeze in the mush, or I could make my to-do list and just go go go. 

That is how I felt the week leading up to my big move. But I told myself to keep pushing past all my fear and anxiety and just get it done. Set up the utilities in my name. Check. Find decently priced renters insurance. Check. Find somewhere that issues a money order. Walmart, if you were wondering. Check. Find a way to ship the money order safely and securely to arrive before the weekend. I drove to two UPS stores before I was successful in this task, all while racing the clock to get there before they closed at 8 pm. But finally, check. 

Because I was living with my parents, most of my stuff was already in boxes. But I packed up the few items I did have in my room. Prioritized the boxes by the level of importance.  All boxes with a number 1 on them had to go in the Jeep with me.  Anything labeled with a #2 had to go on the box truck with my dad.  Lastly, a #3 label meant if it didn’t make the cut, I would be fine to live without it, but that it should be added to the truck if there is space.  

So we went to my cousin’s wedding on Saturday and started packing on Sunday.  I was unable to rent a truck until the following weekend, so the plan was to pack the Jeep, drive down, and my parents would pack the remainder of my belongings into the truck rental the following weekend and my dad would drive it down to Savannah. 

On Monday, July 12th, 2021, with my car packed to the brim, Linus’s carrier case wedged between all the boxes in the back middle seat looking out, we set out for Savannah. The drive was long and pretty much uneventful. Aside from the usual rain and construction, the trip was mellow, which I think is the best option for any road trip. 

And then we arrived. I have signed my lease and paid my fees. My internet router arrived on Wednesday and I set that up without much of a struggle. I worked from my new apartment, using my kitchen table and a folding chair as a desk. Eating leftovers and pizza on the floor of my living room. 

Finally, on Sunday my dad arrived with the truck and we filled the apartment wall to wall with all my stuff. 

It’s crazy to think that I lived without this stuff for the past year. When I moved back in with my parents, I used their kitchenware, their groceries, their towels. I sat at their kitchen table and slept in my childhood bedroom. Alone in my apartment, I unpacked each of my items with great joy welcoming them back to life. All my favorite mugs and my banana leaf shower curtain, happy to be on display again. While I don’t have a lot, everything I own is a true expression of me as a person. 

And now all my stuff is here.  My apartment is starting to take shape.  I looked around one evening this week, after rearranging the furniture and hanging up all my clothing. Sitting crossed-legged on my couch, watching Gilmore Girls on MY TV. Linus was hunting a pipe cleaner in between the couch cushions right next to me. It was quiet. This was it.  This was what I had been praying for since last year when I moved home. I had been praying for my independence back, to remember who I was, what types of things I like to do with my spare time, quiet moments to look around and be grateful for life. Space to see my life as my own and not look to others for answers to my life problems I raised my eyes, said a quiet prayer. “Thank you”. I finally made it.