Living Out of a Suitcase: I Miss My Things

A commitment to show up and write my truth | Day 288 of 365

I was packing for a trip somewhere much colder than here when I went to grab my winter clothes and stopped with my hand halfway to a closet that wasn’t mine.

My coats are in storage, and so are the boots I’d already planned to wear.

I knew exactly where they were. I could have told you which side of the unit, and probably which box. I hadn’t lost a thing. I’d simply put an entire season somewhere I couldn’t reach it, and the weather at my destination had no interest in our moving timeline.

So I packed what I had. Somewhere in the middle of folding a sweater that was almost right, I realized it wasn’t really my stuff I was missing. It was the ease that came with it. And that ease didn’t appear out of nowhere. I built it.

The Wardrobe I Built on Purpose

Every piece in that storage unit is there because at some point I chose it. I tried it on and knew it felt like me. Over the years, those small decisions added up to a closet where I didn’t have to think very hard in the morning. I knew which shoes worked with which dress. I knew which purse could carry my whole day without complaint.

If you’ve ever owned a favorite pair of shoes that made an entire outfit make sense, you know what I mean. That isn’t vanity. It’s knowing yourself well enough to make your own mornings easier.

I used to feel a little guilty admitting I miss my things. It can sound shallow when so much of life is bigger than handbags. I’ve stopped apologizing for it. I like my purses. I chose them with care, and I enjoy carrying them. Wanting to get dressed and feel like yourself is a perfectly reasonable thing to want.

What Living Out of a Suitcase Teaches You About Ease

When you’re living out of a suitcase, ordinary tasks pick up an extra step. Before you can do the thing, you have to answer a question first: is it here, or is it in a storage unit in another state?

It’s a small question. It adds up anyway.

Lately, though, that question has started teaching me something. Every time I reach for something that isn’t here, I learn a little more about what I truly rely on and what I could honestly live without. Some things I haven’t thought about once in months. Others I reach for nearly every day, and their absence has told me more than their presence ever did.

You don’t get that kind of clarity while everything sits in its usual place. Living out of a suitcase hands it to you whether you asked for it or not.

My Desk Was Never Just a Desk

The other thing I keep reaching for is my desk.

I miss my papers waiting where I left them, in a setup that was ready for work before I ever sat down. At my own desk, I never had to think about the space, so I could put all my attention on the work. Now every beginning comes with a few minutes of finding a surface and gathering what I need before the real thinking can start.

I still do the work. I’ve written every one of these 288 days, many of them at a temporary table that has never once felt like mine. That counts for something. It turns out I can create in a space that wasn’t built for me.

Knowing I can adapt doesn’t mean I have to pretend I prefer it, though. I’m proud I can work anywhere. I’d also really love to work at my own desk again. Both of those are true at the same time.

Choosing What Comes Out First

Maybe you’ve been here too. Maybe you lived out of a suitcase longer than you planned, or spent a season with a smaller version of your usual life while you waited for the rest of it to come back. If so, you probably remember the first thing you unpacked, and how good it felt to reach for something and find it right where it belonged.

I already know my first unpack. Nessie and Nessoo, my Nespresso machines, have had that spot reserved ever since I wrote My September Reset Needed a Reset: When Temporary Doesn’t Feel Like Home. After them, the cold-weather clothes are moving up the list, right alongside my desk.

When everything is finally in one place again, there will still be work to do and dinners to make. I’ll still stand in front of a full closet some mornings and announce that I have nothing to wear. The difference is that I’ll be saying it with all the evidence in the room.

What I’m carrying out of this stretch is a clearer sense of what makes my days feel like mine. I know which things make life easier now, because I’ve lived without them. When I do unpack, I’ll do it on purpose.

Until then, I’m grateful we have a safe place to stay and that everything we own is waiting patiently for us. For this trip, I’ll layer what I’ve got.

My good sweaters and boots are waiting. I know exactly where. 🩷

About the Author | Day 288 of 365

I’m a soul-led coach, entrepreneur, mother, and recovering perfectionist, currently navigating healing, uncertainty, temporary chapters, motherhood, work, big transitions, grief, nervous system healing, overstimulation, emotional growth, and the ongoing lesson that life works a whole lot better when we stop trying to carry everything alone. Today that lesson looked like packing for colder weather with my coats in storage, and realizing the ease I miss is something I built on purpose.

Day 288 of 365. Still showing up, and still owning the right coat in the wrong location. 🐧