The Emotional Cycle of Moving

One spouse’s repeated journey

by Heidi Evans


My family recently completed our 11th move in 12 years of marriage/military life.

In the past 30 months, we have moved across an ocean twice, and once across town. We will move again in 30 months. There are another three or four moves left before the option to retire.

Here is my personal version of the emotional cycle of moving:

Three Months Until the Move. Moving stress begins. I excuse myself from extra commitments. I give myself permission to say “no,” often. I do things “one last time” or “before we leave.” I unplug from my friends and my life. This is when I cry the most and say my real goodbyes.

One Month Until the Move. Everyone around me is saying goodbye, but my heart is already heading down the road. I start exploring the life we will have and try to make connections.

Move Week. I am so exhausted everything would make me cry if I had energy to be upset. I become a robot, running down the list of required tasks. My friends cry. I can’t.

Arrival at the New Place. Everything is new and different. I stare in awe at the incredible amount of junk my family owns. I want to be done unpacking so this new place will feel like home.

One Month Post Move. The junk is mostly unpacked. This is technically home. Now what? I learn all I can. Everything is new and exciting. Everyone is interesting. Every location is fascinating. I brain dump all the old names and places to make room for new ones. I swear at the bureaucratic garbage I face, like new license plates and moving damage claims.
 
Three Months Post-Move. The bloom is off the rose. I know where things are. The kids are settled in school. Now what about me? A massive wave of loneliness settles in that won’t be shaken for months to come. What was quaint is now annoying. I miss “X” from the last place, most of all my friends. I try not to say, “When we lived in X, things were like this.” It’s not endearing.

Six Months Post-Move. Loneliness strikes full-force. I am addicted to the Internet. I attend every volunteer organization in a 3-mile radius that has friend potential. I commit to endless projects. I overlook people’s glaring personality flaws, like paranoia and nastiness and befriend women who create much negative drama in my life.

12 Months Post-Move. Things are settling into a groove. I jettison volunteer commitments that aren’t fulfilling and acquaintances who revealed their dark side. I often find work with newly acquired references. I still don’t have that close cadre of do-anything-for-you friends, but I have folks I talk to often.

18 Months Post-Move. Things fall into place. New arrivals think I am a local authority. I have friends who would stand by me through anything and I would do likewise.
 
Three Years Post-Move. I start to get antsy. Things are routine. It’s time to move on. (I will add that we rarely get to the three-year point.)

Of course we all know what happens next. The new set of orders arrives and the whole cycle begins again.