I dread packing. I hate it. I always over-pack and wish I had under-packed. With that being said trying to whittle myself down to two suitcases, a small carry on, and a backpack is daunting. I give credit to those who can only have one suitcase. I don’t know how you did it. This will be the third attempt to try and pack my suitcases. The carry on needs a little shuffling work but is mostly planned out.
I was thinking about this while I was driving earlier…packing is a metaphor for life. The hardest thing about packing is letting go. What to let go of and why. Will I miss it? Do I need it? Do I just want to take it with me? And if so, why? My shit (as I lovingly call it) really has a life of its own. I think it embodies how I view myself. Why am I clinging on to shorts that are 4 sizes too small with only a glimmer of hope that I will once again fit into them? I do not know the answer to that and they have been placed back in my closet for safekeeping. A shirt I like but do not particular wear but I just might wear it because you never know…never know what? Ah…you mean going places and envisioning yourself somewhere that you probably might not be or go to. Yeah, probably shouldn’t pack that.
Packing is frustrating. It shows that I cling on to material things for silly reasons. One day I will fit into this, oh I wore that when, oh I really like this, I wish I could bring that…the excuses not to part with anything. But in reality, I have to make choices and whittle down my clothing choices in order to fit my life into two suitcases and at the end of the day I have never been a fashionista.
Nope. I’m a yoga pants and sweatshirt kind of girl. Mostly because I used to work 6 days a week and all I did was live in work clothes and never really went out anywhere. I just wanted to relax on my one day off, occasionally I would go out in yoga pants maybe jeans. The yoga pants were easier since I will be damned buying a size up at this point. My own stubbornness has gotten the best of me. Moving to Korea is hard in the sense that I don’t particularly care what I look like. In Korea, fashion and looking presentable is important. I want to roll out of bed with my hair a mess, pajama pants on, a tank top, and flip flops and run down the corner of the street to buy a coffee. Yes, just like that. It might even happen while I am in Korea as old habits die hard.
So as I cast my clothing aside piece by piece, the weight on my shoulders becomes less and less. There is no reason to cling to things that hold no meaning. Time to get crackin’ at that packing again. I plan to be finished by Sunday. I figure the coming blizzard will give me quality time with my suitcases.
Once, I finish packing I plan on making a list and taking photos so that it can help others in the future.