Packing up your belongings and moving to a glitzy new city is the stuff dreams are made of.
Or maybe it’s just the opening scene of a bad midday movie, hard to tell really.
Last week I said goodbye to most of my furniture, a quarter of my shoes and a fairly sizable chunk of my soul as I packed up my Brisbane home, jumped in the car and set my GPS for the bright lights of Sydney.
The move itself turned out to be quite the crowd pleaser.
Every time I mentioned my new job location, a misty glow would suddenly sweep across people’s faces and suddenly their vocabulary would contain more buzzwords than a pyramid scheme seminar.
Words such as ‘adventure’, ‘excitement’ and ‘new beginnings’ were tossed around with wild abandon. Every time I brought up small issues that were troubling me, like the fact that I was technically homeless, they were brushed aside with a cheery chirp of ” but think of the adventure!”
Which is a ridiculous sentiment, when you think about it.
If history has taught us anything, it’s that adventures are generally plagued with hardship,despair and death.
In The Wizard of Oz Dorothy was forced to steal a dead woman’s shoes and travel along a questionably constructed road while plagued by flying monkeys.
Frodo wasn’t exactly sipping Mai Tai’s and checking out the scenery when he traveled to Mount Doom in The Lord Of The Rings .
And please don’t even get started on the mental and emotional scares that poor Harry Potter was left to deal with after his “adventure, because no amount of Butterbeer is going to fill that sad void.
Despite this knowledge, I still decided to embrace the road less traveled (which in this day-and-age meant i Instagrammed a picture of the Opera House, along with #adventure) and set off to try my luck in the big smoke.
Which is ironic, because my life quickly went up in flames.
When you move house, it’s a well documented fact that your belongings multiply faster than rabbits after Valentine’s Day.
Which is why, when I finally arrived in my new city, I wasn’t filled with awe as the glittering city lights came into view or as I sped over the Sydney Harbour Bridge for the very first time.
Instead, I had one white-knuckled hand clutching the steering wheel, while the other hand desperately tried to keep the suitcase, shoe boxes and microwave that were precariously stacked on my passenger seat from toppling onto me. A mishap that would have caused my adventure to end in one hell of an unglamorous death.
No one wants their tombstone to say they were taken out by a kitchen appliance.
Moving to a new city meant everything was just a little bit harder, took longer and even the smallest misstep can quickly push you to breaking point.
You’ll also find yourself way more in touch with your feelings than you’ve ever cared to be. Telling every poor soul who has the misfortune to cross your path about the hell you’re currently navigating.
“I just don’t know if I’m making the right decision,” I sobbed into the phone one afternoon. “It’s just all too much, I don’t know if I can do it. It feels like everything is ending, have you ever felt like that?”
“Mam, I just need to know when you’d like the electricity cut off,” came the dry reply. “And where to direct the bill to.”