The Wizard in The Loft (and other weird survival tactics)

✅ Done: 

• • NZ Visa application submitted

  • UK schools notified of leaving date

  • Decluttering (ok, ok.. not all of it..)

⚠️ Pending: 

• • Book accommodation in Auckland

  • Book flights

  • Sell UK House

 

❌ Avoided: 

• • The Shipping forms (oh my god there are so many!)

  • Charity shop run

  • Totalling up the moving costs so far... 🫣

Current Status: Living on leftover Domino’s while wearing a wizard’s cloak in the loft. 

I thought this week that a good way of describing my current state of mind is 'anxiety frostbite'. You know the feeling? When your survival instincts kick in and your energy retreats to the "core" (the urgent stuff: moving to the other side of the world, keeping humans alive), leaving the "extremities" (meal planning, social engagements, hobbies, basic sanity) to just... wither and fall off.  (To be honest, I’ve realised I’ve grown a lot of extra extremities over the years that I don’t actually need.)

This week, the offloading has begun.

The Great Audit

I’ve finally commenced the decluttering, from the loft down. The first thing I found? A wizard’s cloak. 

Stuffed behind boxes along with loads of other toys I’d completely forgotten about. 

Naturally, I put it on. Turns out, it’s much easier to face a mountain of dusty boxes when you have +10 Magical Resistance.

I’m now applying that same energy to my digital life. Another phone audit is in order to once again pull it back to Nokia 3310 capabilities. If an app doesn't serve a purpose that makes my life somehow easier, it’s gone.

The Burnout Trap

The hardest part of this move isn't the packing or the sorting, or the piles of admin, it's the Burnout Trap. I read a good definition of what burnout means this week: it’s when you can't feel good about yourself unless you're accomplishing something. That hits home.

Shortly to be unemployed, I’ve started labelling this gap as ‘Relocation Leave’ just so my brain can reconcile the fact that I’m allowed to exist without a staff lanyard.

Even sitting still for ten minutes feels like a rising panic. There is so much noise. But writing is how I look the "pulled muscle" of my ADHD brain in the eye. I’m not shoving the feelings in the cupboard anymore (mostly because the cupboard is already full of stuff I need to sell on Vinted).

I was reminded of mycelium again this week.  Reaching out for connections, strengthening one another, neither dependent, or independent, just…. One.

The Reset Plan for this week:

• Food: No more takeaway-fueled sluggishness. I’m only buying food for 3 days at a time. Low stakes, high reward.

• The Travel Kit: I’m working on The Modern Botanical First Aid Booklet. Tiny recipes for big moves.

• The Perspective: On a grey commute through Watford, I wondered, "Will I miss this?" Probably. In that weird way we miss the things that shaped us, even the dreary bits.