I won't lie, this has been a really hard process. I almost lost it when I started moving all my stuff out of closets and into the living room to be sold. It seemed to be never ending. All the things I've accumulated and inherited over the years as I moved from one place to another. This time however, I'm taking a single carry on, and a backpack. EVERYTHING must go has become my mantra.
There's this panic in my stomach that keeps coming back. What have I forgotten to do, that I won't be able to fix once I'm there? Will I be able to get everything on my list done before I leave? Will anyone buy my stuff, or even want it for free, or am I gonna end up throwing everything away?
That panic also is starting to come with waves of relief. The end is near. Soon, no matter what I forgot, sold, or threw away, I will own what's in my bag, somewhere on an island, a few blocks from the beach. I can't even picture what my average day will be like. It's just not the same feeling as going on vacation. There's an anticipation and excitement muddled together with fear and self-doubt that's completely new to me, and I suppose, that's one of the reasons I'm doing this.
I imagine I'll be pleased that I felt this way, after I'm done feeling this way.