I’m still in the process of unpacking.
Normally, I spend all of my free time quickly unpacking so I can have access to everything sooner than later. This time, however, I’m taking it slow- which is so hard. I’m arranging my room with care and sorting through items I’ve carried with me for a long time and am finally in the headspace to recognize what’s not needed anymore- and that’s been super liberating. There are times when it’s unnerving that I don’t have certain things readily available yet, but my room is finally turning into a cozy nook. Plus, I’ve moved so many times within the past few years, that by the time I unpack and get settled, it’s time for me to move again. This time, I’m planning on staying put for a while. This time, I’m putting half my energy into unpacking and the other half into creative efforts (since those boxes were unpacked).
I came across some old journals and sketchbooks and spent an entire night looking at my old drawings. I used to love drawing and painting. It’s interesting to notice how my sketches have dwindled in relation to the more time I’ve spent on social media. I partially know why that is, but also can’t fathom why I’d let that happen. Looking at my old silly sketches, I’m reminded to create just for the sheer fuck of it and not worry about perfectionism. Yee-haw.