Other Moving Out After Mom Passed


Hi all,

I’ve been struggling a lot lately with moving out of the apartment my mom and I shared. She passed away earlier last year, and I was excited about moving before but I’m questioning it now that I’m closer to the date of actually moving. It seems so official that she’s never coming back. I feel so uncomfortable moving and have a lot of mixed feelings.

It’s also ironic in that I felt that right when I got the swing of things- making a daily routine and keeping my environment moderately clean, the timing happened where I was able to move. I’m so scared I’m missing something by moving out. I’m so scared that the new apartment won’t be as good as the old one. For context, I need to move for a DV reason as well (stalking), so staying really isn’t even an option.

Does anyone have any words of encouragement or advice? There’s so many layers to this situation and some wisdom would be helpful. Thank you.

If I haven’t posted on the right forum please let me know*


It's probably very normal to have doubts during a major situation like this?
It's a big thing you are going through.

Is there a way of reminding yourself that you aren't moving on a whim. You have thought this through. It's a considered decision. For all the complex reasons you mention.

And also: even with considered and thought through decisions there are gains and losses. It will be a loss that you are leaving the place you shared with your mum. Recognising that loss doesn't mean it's the wrong thing to do. It noticing it, and honouring it.
The gain you will have is the safety from the stalking and the excitement you felt when you intially made the decision.

Wishing you as much peace as possible through this.


I’m someone who has spent most of their life moving around… and loving it, for many many reasons.

But there are hard things about it.

One of those things is the life breathed into memory from places.

I did this here. We did that there. I felt this here.

There’s a …reality?… to these kinds of mementos that kind of gets threatened when we lose access TO those mementos. Especially the mundane things. The chip on a sink. A height chart on a doorway. The way the light slants through the curtains.

Very true, and very real, emotion gets attached onto those things that hold the memories of the people we loved best, the times that shaped us, and it’s physically painful to lose that connection.

And when someone has actually died? It feels, to me, like losing them all over again… when I lose my access to …it’s not them, but it’s still kinda them if that makes sense? Because there are tens of thousands of unrememered moments forming this backbone of the few preciously remembered moments. Becoming a kind of solid thing. We were here. This was real.

One of the things I learned to do, moving as often as I did, was to create a double. Both a real token, and the memory of that token, in the event that the physical token was lost. Whether that token is a thing like a necklace or a house or a photograph…. I would actively rehearse the memory of the token itself. And, in later years, would often find new tokens to remind me.

For example? I my mother used to wear this gold Chinese junk necklace when I was small. Attached to that necklace are tens of thousands of memories of gold hair, and warmth, and sunshine, and rainy days, and train stations, and socks that slid down into my shoes, and countless other things. I may not have that pendant (although I keep an eye out in jewelry shops for something close enough to be “right”, and my standards are too high to have found it… yet), but somewhere in my home will usually be something that reminds me OF that token. A painting. A photograph. Something.

Similarly, whenever I’m in an area I used to live, I often go “visit” my old homes. Drive down the street. Provoke the memories that are attached to places, encode them just a little bit stronger. Even with the differences time writes, I can still “see” how things used to be. Still catch a ghost of those feelings.

None of these things are new, or unique. You find 2,000 yo Latin inscribed into trees and stone with “we were here”, great poets write sagas about never being able to go home again, the family photo album is the only thing many people will grab from a burning building -risking their life for the tangible reminders of people, times, places- a even modernly with spare hard drives in safe deposit boxes & cloud backup.

Memories matter.

You’re leaving a place with a lot of memories attached to it.

Of course you’re going to feel that.

And… word to the wise? Take something with you. No matter how silly. That speaks to you of your time there.

One of the FEW benefits of PTSD is that our brains are hardwired to make connections with things, in a way that few people’s brains are. I take wicked advantage of that whenever possible. 😎
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of course there are many layers. life is a complex weave. there are many layers to the simplest of lives.

i'm wondering if you should counter the questions of what you might miss by moving with questions of what you might miss by NOT moving. a clean slate. the opportunity to grow and experiment with that clean slate. new neighbors. new stomping grounds. a excuse compelling to go through those closets and get rid of junk you haven't used in years. freshly painted walls and refurbished floors.

just wondering. . .
gentle support while you find what works for you.