The last few months have been pretty much a blur. One minute we’re tossing around the idea of moving to the mountains one day and the next minute, we’re trucking down the highway in a Uhaul. What???

It was barely three years ago when we purged more than 75% of our belongings and moved from our big house in the suburbs to our small condo in the city. The last of our kids off to college, we thought we’d spend the rest of our years exploring urban life.

Sidewalk cafes and neighborhood pubs. Live music and festivals in the town square. Public transportation — and a high walkability score. Truly, we thought Decatur, Georgia was everything we wanted. We thought it was a perfect fit… and then, well, then it wasn’t.

So, here we are, now – living in a log cabin in the woods. Where just a month ago we were flanked on all sides by neighbors, now the nearest home is barely visible through the thick curtain of green.

Life is brand new. And so very different. What “fit” in our Decatur townhouse didn’t really make sense in our log home. I mean, there’s a moose head hanging smack dab in the middle of our new living space — need I say more?

While unpacking yet another box of stuff from our condo that just didn’t fit anywhere in our new home, I completely lost it. I had caught some packing paper under a fingernail and sure, it stung, but that did me in. The weeks of frustration–of trying to fit this thing here and that thing there — I was spent. Filled to the brim with stress, it was a paper cut that opened the floodgates. Dave came inside when he heard me literally sobbing over a half-empty box of glassware, asking me what was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. I was so tired of opening box after box and finding that nothing fit. Our life was in those boxes and there was no place for it here.

No place for my spices.

No place for sheets and extra towels.

There was just no place for our old life… in this new one.

After I finished my mini-meltdown, I felt 100% better. (There really is something to be said about just having a good cry now and then–but that’s for another blog.) What I was feeling was this: Stop trying to make your old life fit into your new one. 

And that was it. Round hole. Square peg. I have moved to a whole new life. Not just a whole new home. A whole new life.

And in this new life, it’s SO totally OK to (finally) get rid of the six pairs of high heels I’ve worn once or twice but moved three times. I probably won’t need them when I’m kayaking or hiking in the mountains.

It’s OK if my kitchen cupboard only holds six wine glasses.

When I pulled my head out of those boxes, I was reminded of the beauty of this new life. The sun streaming through the windows that line the walls of our home. The trees that surround us like a blanket of warmth and safety. The fog rolling in over the distant mountain ranges.

It’s all so very OK. This new life.

And what totally fits here… is me.