When the Change Is Done and You Still Don't Feel Settled
By Orileva
The boxes are in the new apartment. You’ve found the kettle, but the spoons are somewhere under a layer of tea towels. Someone messages to ask how it feels to be settled.
You tell them about the window. It’s the part of the room you like best, and it means you don’t have to describe the rest.
The move is finished. You’re still learning where to buy groceries, and whether you like coming home here. There’s not much to say about any of that when someone asks, which is why it can help to write it down instead. Journaling can begin with those ordinary uncertainties. They don’t have to add up to anything.
The weeks when everyone thinks you’re settled
In the first weeks after a move, practical details take up much of the day. A bill you haven’t transferred. Another thing you need to buy. By the time someone asks how you’re finding the place, you’re tired of talking about it. You say it’s going well.
Later, the cost of a curtain rail is still on your mind. That’s something you could put on a page, even if it seems too ordinary to write about. A few lines about the bus can lead to a thought about missing your old neighborhood, or remain an account of a frustrating journey.
The diary passages below are imagined.
October 6
I looked for my old bus number on the timetable this morning, then remembered it doesn’t run here. I stood there longer than I needed to because I didn’t want to take my phone out again.
I like the light in this apartment. At six, the kitchen still feels bright. I keep telling people that when they ask about the move.
Mostly I’m thinking about how much it cost and whether the washing machine sounds right. I’ve never had one that makes that noise. I recorded it on my phone to ask someone, but on the recording it just sounds like a washing machine.
Missing a place you were glad to leave
The old apartment was too small, but you knew the neighbors. You wanted a different view and now find yourself thinking about the shop you used to pass on the way home.
At the bread shop, the person behind the counter started reaching for your usual loaf before you asked. You could be tired after work and still manage that small exchange. It’s the sort of thing you didn’t think to put on either side of the list when you were deciding whether to move.
In a new place, even buying bread can require more attention. Which shop is open late? Do you need cash? It’s tiring, learning things that used to be effortless.
Missing that familiarity doesn’t settle how you feel about the move. The old place was still too small. You can be glad you left and want, for one evening, to walk home without having to think about the way. If you write about it, both of those things belong on the page.
If “I miss it” doesn’t quite describe what you mean, our article on writing about feelings when the words won’t come starts with a moment you remember, before trying to name the feeling.
The questions you can’t answer yet
You wonder whether you’ll stay for years or want to leave by winter. The question feels urgent when you’re eating dinner beside boxes you haven’t unpacked.
Write down what makes you wonder. “I haven’t met anyone I’d call on a Friday evening” is something you know about this week. Add how you spent Friday, or who you nearly called. Those details are easier to return to than a prediction about whether you’ll ever belong.
Some concerns need attention sooner. If the rent is stretching your budget, write what worries you about next month, then look at the numbers when you can. Use the next page to list the expenses you know about, including the small purchases you keep forgetting to count.
For something you can’t answer yet, leave yourself a question to revisit. After a few weeks of commuting, you’ll know more about the journey than you did after the first difficult morning.
Return when there is something new to add
Journaling can be this occasional: a few lines when you notice something you would have wanted to tell someone, then a gap until there’s more to say.
October 23
I got home without checking the route today. I only noticed when I took my coat off.
I found somewhere nearby that sells the bread I like. I bought two loaves because I was so pleased. One is in the freezer now.
The rent is still worrying me. I’m going to look at next month’s expenses on Sunday. I’ve written that here because I keep telling myself I’ll do it when I’ve finished unpacking, and there are four boxes I haven’t touched.
Three weeks later, there are still four boxes to unpack and a rent payment to think about. But getting home has become easier. The second entry doesn’t need to explain away the first one.
Our article on a journaling rhythm without a daily streak considers returning when you have something to write, without turning the journal into another obligation.
If you want to try journaling tonight, take a notebook or a piece of paper and describe one detail of the day that would have been different before the move. It might be the view from the kitchen, or something you still haven’t found a place for. Leave it there if that’s all you have to say.
More from Ori Notes
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