Moving Out: A Journey of Transformation and Letting Go

Well, it's finally happening. After eight years, I’m saying goodbye to the apartment that has held me through the chaos, the heartbreaks, the growth spurts, the greatest accomplishments thus far and the countless midnight snacks of my twenties - it even held up through that time I fell asleep after a late night out with friends and left the chicken nuggets in the oven baking all night long - they were absolutely charcoaled beyond. 🤦‍♀️ Thank god, that phase has been long over. Anyways, this place has seen it all—from ugly crying on the bathroom floor and then transmuting my feelings into my next song on Spotify to dancing like no one's watching (and, I hope, no one was). It’s been my cocoon, my sanctuary, my crash pad, my comfort zone. But, like the trees shedding their leaves in fall, it’s time for me to finally let go.

My move landing in the midst of the season of change feels like life’s poetic way of saying, “Hey, it’s time for the next level of transformation.” Fall, with its crisp air and kaleidoscope of colors, is all about letting go of the old to make room for the new. And here I am, about to embark on a move that feels like a rite of passage. There’s gratitude for all the memories, excitement for what’s to come, and of course, a little bit of nervous energy (okay, maybe a lot, but who’s counting?).

Can you believe I fit into the moving box?!

The Moving Process: A Beautiful Mess

Let’s be honest—moving is like a weird combo of therapy and a yard sale, where you’re forced to face every piece of your past that you’ve shoved under the bed or hidden in the back of the closet. As I pack boxes and discover things I didn’t even know I owned (hello, mismatched socks and that collection of takeout menus from 2018), I realize I’m not just moving out of my apartment—I’m moving out of an entire chapter of my life.

But, as I bubble-wrap the dishes, retire the trashy diner style cups I got for free from TGI Friday's (🤣 don't ask) and pack up the memories, I also feel a sense of lightness, of freedom. It’s hard to heal fully in the same place that hurt you. And while this space has been my comfort zone, my sanctuary if you will, it’s also been the backdrop for some of the toughest moments in my life. The walls of this apartment hold memories that I'm ready to move on from. It's done a wonderful job at being the cocoon that held me while I blossomed into a butterfly but there comes the day when it's time to spread those pretty little newly developed wings and fly away (corny but totally accurate). It’s time to breathe fresh air, in a fresh space.

RIP to the glass my sister broke and put back in my cupboard LOL. But peep the diner cups in the back. We are graduating to matching glass cups both ribbed and clear. You know you're growing up when you are excited and focused on glassware.

Rituals for Release and Renewal

To mark this transition, I’m leaning into some rituals that feel meaningful. First up: saging. Yep, I’m going full woo-woo with a smudge stick and some smoky sage. This is probably not surprising - let's be honest. I’ll walk through every corner of the apartment, letting the smoke clear out the old energy—stale arguments, lingering sadness, and all the baggage I’m not packing in my moving boxes. I’ll say a silent thank you to these walls for everything they held and release them with love, probably while crying my eyes out - and as if this wasn't already poetic enough, I'm due for my period the same day I move as well! Oof. 😅 There's something extremely powerful and therapeutic about the feeling of those from my recent or distant past (that I've let go of) no longer being able to know where I am at anymore - that nothing they remember of me exists in this earth plane anymore. They have no hold of me or what was left of me. I don't know if that is the sagittarius in me living for a little mystery but that's how I feel. 🤷‍♀️

And then, there’s the chance for new habits and a fresh slate. A new home means a new routine, a new way of living. It’s an opportunity to create healthier habits, to embrace new beginnings. I have made a plan for my own goals like finally starting a morning somatic yoga practice, and getting really good at making breakfast and new meals (small wins count too, right?). I have some larger plans and goals in place but I'll keep those to myself until I make them happen. 😌 A fresh space means I can be more intentional with what I bring into it—both physically and emotionally. It feels like a new lease on life.

Letting Go and Welcoming the New

I’m trying to be mindful about this move, to honor what was while making space for what will be. I’m creating a little “goodbye ceremony” for myself, where I’ll take one more of my epson salt goddess rose petal bubble baths, light a candle, play a song that has always felt like home, and just sit with my gratitude for a moment. I might cry just a little (👀 yeah right), and I might laugh a lot as I take in the memories of this space. And then, I’ll blow out the candle, turn off the lights, and wake up the next morning ready to close the door one last time.

On to the next chapter. A new space that I will shape, fill with new memories, and turn into a home of its own.

Moving with the Season of Change

Moving in the fall feels fitting. It’s like the universe is giving me a giant metaphor. Just like the trees, I’m shedding the old to make way for the new. There’s something magical about this season—it’s the time when everything is transforming, and I get to transform with it. And in honor of spooky season, I get chills thinking about how a spiritual psychic actually told me I would be moving within this time period two years ago. I can't help but feeling like that's a physical manifestation of alignment.

So, here’s to new beginnings, fresh starts, and the joy of finally finding out what’s been in that drawer I haven’t opened in years. Here’s to embracing the change, the unknown, and the promise that whatever comes next will be just as beautiful, messy, and meaningful as what I’m leaving behind.

Trying to enjoy the process of unboxing and organizing rather than rushing to be finished. It's better for my central nervous system and allows me to feel my gratitude even in the midst of chaos.

And Hey, A Little Humor Can Follow Me Anywhere

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that moving requires a sense of humor. Because when you find yourself crying over a chipped mug or debating if you should keep that “vintage” IKEA furniture (read: old and wobbly), you have to laugh. And when you can’t figure out how to assemble the moving boxes, or you pack your toothbrush at the bottom of the first box, humor is essential as are friends that will bring you food and a disposable toothbrush while you're unpacking (Uber delivery counts🤭).

So, wish me luck. I’m ready to step into my new home, sage in hand, heart wide open, and maybe a cinnamon roll in the other hand—because why not embrace the sweetness of this new beginning? Cinnamon is so fall and represents abundance, after all! Stay ThickFit (IYKYK).🤪

And remember, no matter where you go, your story moves with you. Here’s to writing the first chapter of a new book in my life series, one that’s filled with light, love, and the possibility of a thousand new memories waiting to be made. 🍂🏠

XO,

Coach Corey ♡