Moving House is Fucked.

The time has come for me to leave the warm embrace of the parental nest and move into my own place (my very very own place, complete with a mortgage). I guess you could say that really, the time came and went a long time ago but 24 isn't ancient by stil-living-at-home standards these days, not really. But anyway. I digress...
The prospect of having my own space and doing whatever I like with it is well exciting but when it comes down to the nuts and bolts of actually getting there, I start getting anxious as fuck.

Nothing makes as nervous as the prospect of moving house.

I can easily demonstrate. I'm guessing if you're a normal internet person you've probably got a lot of stuff. It makes sense - people that like the internet like a lot of different things (or they like one thing with a deep passion..) and so we own a lot of things, a lot of stuff. Now a moment to look round at all your stuff...and imagine that that you have to gather it all up and move it to some other location, with some vague kind of order or organisation. Take a moment to really imagine having to do this. What would be your first step? Would you keep all of it? Maybe try and throw some things away? (This is where the hoarders start to get reeaaal sweaty.)
This is the feeling I've been experiencing mulitple times a day lately. I don't even have to move yet, I've got a few weeks. I don't even have to worry about downsizing my room, I've got a whole house to fill with my shit. But I still can't help freaking the fuck out everytime I think about it. I don't know where to start, I don't know what to take, what to leave behind, what to dtich altogether. I don't know if I should start packing things in boxes or just fill up carloads of "stuff" and dump it in the new place and sort it out once I'm there.
The other nasty thing about this whole process is all the bloody retrospecting. What a way to make you have a good, long look at your past. How much of my life is packed away in this room? And now I have to go through it all. Oh sure, I'll have some laughs. But I can guarantee there will be an equal if not greater amount of cringing and sinking stomachs as you get smacked in the face with embarrassing memories or painful reminders of growing up.
I guess the first step is just making a start. It's that small action, the opening up a word document, the turning on the oven, the putting on a bra - the little steps that can seem unsurmountable and yet just doing one tiny thing can get you moving on the right path.
At the end of the day, I just can't wait to be there. I know I'll make it eventually... even if I hate every minute of the move and I don't take the easiest or most organised path to get there.