Settling & Surviving: The Arrival Manifesto (a Repost)

This post was originally written 2 years ago. I’m resurrecting it as the timing is perfect. It is dedicated to all those who are beginning – again. 

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In the past week the sidewalks of Boston have been covered with boxes, suitcases, garment bags, trunks, and the occasional stuffed animal, a remnant from childhoods that went by too quickly. Massive laundry baskets are lined up to take all the earthly goods that a college student was allowed to take from home to rooms that are around 6 feet by 10 feet and badly in need of remodeling.

Boston sees a record 200,000 students arrive each fall for the school year. We feel it on the subway and in stores. The energy is palpable, the chaos inevitable.

In the spring I did a post called Parties and Packing: The Moving Manifesto, a post born out of the millions of memories I have packing up houses and leaving places from as far as Pakistan to as close as Cambridge. As I hear from one of my children, a freshman in college, and observe neighbors and students in our area, I realize that as difficult as the moving manifesto is, the arrival manifesto can be just as painful.

So here is my offering for Settling and Surviving: The Arrival Manifesto:

• Force conversation – check
• Don’t give too much information, they might think you’re boasting – check
• Keep on telling yourself  ”In a couple of weeks this will all seem familiar” – check
• Bite back your tears – check
• Remind yourself that you always made friends before. Surely you can make friends now – check
• Force yourself to not look at Facebook to see what all your friends back home are doing – check
• If you can’t stay away from Facebook, post pictures that make it look like you are having the time of your life with your “new” friends (who aren’t really your friends yet, but who’s to know?
• Walk tall (or short) and confident – check
• Quickly scout out your surroundings and find a coffee place that you think could become a favorite – check
• Don’t call your mom, because she’ll stay up all night in tears thinking you are not ever going to be ok and wondering  how her baby girl/boy will survive without her - check

Settling and surviving is hard work.

I’m convinced that it is made more difficult by our ability to keep tabs on our old life through the click of a mouse. In just one click you can see the party that you couldn’t go to because you’ve moved. One click will show you that the critical part you played in your school or community is now being played by someone seemingly less worthy than you, and brings on a wave of inadequacy and the sense that you are easily replaced. Added to that are the high expectations that we place on ourselves, feeling like it shouldn’t take so long to adjust, like we are doing something wrong because we don’t feel fully connected and everyone else seems to be doing so well.

Identity crises are frequent in the first days of a move. Going from places where we are known, where our skills and talents are recognized and appreciated, to a place where no one knows anything about us can be simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Having to explain everything about our families, our manners and our quirks with the potential for misunderstanding (and the listener perhaps making a judgment call on whether the quirk is endearing or really weird …)is a vulnerable place to be.

But despite all of this, I believe moving is worth it. It’s not easy, it never will be. It brings out the best and worst of me, sometimes at the same time, and it can be a huge assault on my security. Despite all that, I can’t imagine the opportunities I would have missed and the people I would never have met had I not been willing to go through the settling process and move into surviving and thriving.

So if you are one of those that just made a move, or remember with pain a recent move where you still aren’t sure where and how you fit, think of it like a pair of new shoes.

You saw them in the store and they looked so cute. You tried them on and they fit! They looked great. Then…you took them home. You put them on again. You didn’t remember that they were that tight, or that you couldn’t walk in them that well. You try wearing the shoes for a while, but a tiny blister forms making it even more difficult to walk. So you take them off, wondering why you liked them in the first place. But the next day your try again because you do like them and you paid good money for them, and you’ll try again the day after. You do this and wear them a bit longer.

Day after day you break those shoes in, getting compliments because they are cute, and you look good in them. Then suddenly you wake up one day, you go to put them on and you realize, they don’t hurt. They feel great. In fact, they’ve become your favorite pair of shoes.  Part of the moving manifesto is that this move, like the shoes, could become your favorite.

Image credit: ivaleksa / 123RF Stock Photo