Living in the In-Between
What moving twelve times in fifteen years taught me about space, identity, and ownership.
I’ve moved 12 times over the last 15 years - everything from relocating just 10 blocks away to moving to the other side of the world. After a while, you stop letting yourself fully settle. You know everything in your space is temporary. You hesitate to truly make it your own, whether it’s because another move is always looming or because your landlord won’t let you paint the walls.
This week, I finally put up a piece of art I bought for my old apartment 10 years ago. It’s been nearly six years since I lived in that studio and just as long since I tried to bring a piece of myself into the place I call home. I’d had enough of this latest moment of living “in between.” That sense of individuality is something I crave, not just in how my space looks, but in how I move through every part of my life.
In a lot of ways, moving so often has forced me to reevaluate what’s actually necessary in my day-to-day. What do I need regular access to? What can stay stored away? And more importantly, if it’s been boxed up and out of sight for years, do I even need it at all? That part is kind of liberating. You start to realize how little the material things actually matter.
Above all else, I’ve tended to prioritize keeping what I need to be productive and efficient - most of that centering around creating music. Some things hold nostalgia, sure. But if I’ve carried it from one apartment to the next without ever unpacking it, what am I even holding on to? It starts to feel more like dead weight than something meaningful.
Still, at some point, you start to miss the personal touch - your individual taste, your tiny rituals, the comfort of being surrounded by things that reflect you. You can survive on the essentials, but joy matters too. And when you’ve lived out of boxes for long enough, even one framed piece of art can feel like a reclamation.
But the flipside of all that transience is that it makes you more intentional. Every item becomes a question: Will this travel with me? Will this still feel like me three apartments from now? What’s clutter, and what’s legacy?
This week, something in me just clicked. I realized I’d started to feel like I was living in a storage unit with a desk and a bed. And even if this place isn’t permanent, I needed it to feel like mine. So I rearranged furniture. I decluttered. I bought shelves and containers for organizing (hello, Virgo cusp). I finally hung the art I’d kept in storage. I didn’t expect a full spring-cleaning moment, but that’s exactly what it became. And honestly? It felt like a reset I didn’t know I needed.
I’ve spent years creating in temporary spaces, but claiming one, even in a small way, feels like the start of something more permanent.
What’s one thing you’re always carrying with you from place to place?
Ironically - the next song I’m releasing is all about claiming space. I didn’t write this post intending for there to be connected, but here we are. It’s coming out at the end of the month and you can presave it here! It’s super helpful in letting Spotify know you’re interested in hearing the song when it comes out, so any clicks through are greatly appreciated <3
i’ve never moved 🫣 i’ve done a lot of decluttering since the pandemic, but i’m curious how the reality of moving will change my relationship with my things!