Renee:
They say moving is one of the most stressful things adults go through.
Right up there with career shifts and major life changes.
As we’ve been packing boxes this week, I’ve realized something.
Moving isn’t just stressful.
It’s revealing.
It forces you to touch everything you’ve accumulated, physically and emotionally, and ask:
Is this still me?
After eight years in this townhouse, we’re packing it up. And while there are timelines and logistics and more cardboard than I care to count, what’s really happening feels deeper.
This house held a season.
And we’ve grown.
Mark:
This will be the ninth home I’ve lived in with Renee, since she moved from Ohio to Florida in 1999.
The sixth home for Eden and Xen.
And today, as I taped up another box, I had a flashback.
When I met Renee, I was 28 years old and had already lived in 30 homes.
Thirty!
People used to ask if my parents were in the military.
They weren’t.
My sisters and I were born in Pasadena, California. When I was four, we moved back to Upstate New York, where my parents had grown up. They divorced when I was six. Between third and fourth grade, my dad married and divorced his second of five wives. (The last two included rings, but were not legal.)
Movement was constant.
Stability was fluid.
So when I say this is the longest I have ever lived in one place in my entire life, that’s not a small statement.
Eight years.
That feels monumental to me.
But before this chapter of stability, there were a few defining moves that shaped us.
I left my sales job with Bright House Networks on October 12, 2012. For eleven years, I had structure, security, and momentum. I had received hundreds of thousands of dollars in sales training and had earned over $1 million. I knew how to win inside that system.
Walking away was not just a career decision.
It was an identity shift.
A year later, when Eden and Xen turned three, we made another bold decision. We moved to Ohio to be closer to Renee’s family.
On paper, it made perfect sense. Community. Cousins. Support.
What we didn’t expect was that it would be the coldest winter in almost thirty years.
I remember standing outside in temperatures I didn’t think were humanly possible and wondering what we had just done.
Renee:
After a second winter, we knew.
It wasn’t just about the weather. It was about alignment. We are Sunshine State people. We build in warmth. We thrive in light.
So we moved back to Florida.
Looking back, that chapter was not a mistake; it served its purpose.
It showed us that proximity to family matters. But so does the environment. So does energy. So does knowing who you are and where you flourish.
That season in Ohio strengthened us more than we realized at the time.
No corporate safety net. Two toddlers. Snow up to our knees. A business still forming.
We were fully in it together.
Just because something makes sense does not mean it fits.
We needed to try it to know.
And when we returned to Florida, it was not retreat. It was refinement.
We were clearer about the life we wanted to build and the environment that would support it.
Mark:
Which brings us to this townhouse.
We moved here in early 2018 because my dad’s independent living center recommended he transition into memory care. His primary progressive aphasia had progressed. He was falling. It was no longer safe.
So we made an emergency decision.
We moved into a larger place so he could live with us.
We thought it would be two or three years at most.
He passed in April 2018.
Afterward, I turned his bedroom into my office. There were many days I felt his presence in there. Not heavy. Just steady and proud.
Life kept unfolding.
Two years later, the world shut down.
We were working from home full-time. Eden and Xen were homeschooling the best they could. Travel paused. Plans shifted. The future felt uncertain.
And this townhouse held all of it.
The grief. The global pause. The reinvention. The resilience.
Renee:
We have traveled all over Florida from this address. So many early morning drives to the Orlando and Sanford airports. So many return home after incredible trips, always grateful to walk back through this door.
This place witnessed our growth.
MetaMind deepened here. The Joint Venture Directory expanded here. Our live events evolved here. We hosted two of our annual 3-day Soulful Leadership Retreats online from our office.
We laughed in this living room. Cried in this kitchen. Hosted conversations that shaped futures.
Eden and Xen were eight when we moved here.
They will be sixteen in two months.
Time seems to compress when you see it stacked in boxes.
Mark:
Even with regular donations to Goodwill, we accumulated more than I realized.
Packing has felt like excavation.
Five boxes of books are packed, so far, with three more to go. My dad left me a box of his books, many signed. Over the last fourteen years working with coaches, speakers, and authors, I’ve collected dozens more from friends, clients, and partners.
Two full boxes of spiral-bound workbooks and binders just from events I’ve attended since 2011.
Each one represents a season and an expansion.
A room I sat in. A breakthrough. A partnership.
Then there are the photos.
The artwork.
The handwritten cards from Eden and Xen when they were little.
So many beautiful memories were made here.
And this is the longest I have ever lived in one place.
For someone who grew up moving constantly, there is something deeply healing about choosing to move rather than being forced to.
This time, we are not reacting.
We are responding.
Renee:
Home is where the heart is.
Over time, the heart grows roots.
Roots do not disappear when you move. They simply deepen your understanding of what truly matters.
This house was meant to be temporary.
Instead, it became a chapter of stability, healing, growth, and expansion.
No wonder it feels emotional.
Mark:
The only constant is change.
Sometimes change looks like moving to a new home.
Sometimes it looks like a new job. A new relationship. A new passion. A new commitment to yourself.
Sometimes it looks like choosing differently from what you did before.
Every move, literal or symbolic, asks the same question:
Who are you becoming?
Renee:
As we seal the moving boxes, I do not just feel stress.
I feel gratitude.
For the season. For the lessons. For the memories. For the growth.
Every new day is an adventure and an opportunity for a fresh start.
Sometimes we just need a new address to remind us.
Renee and Mark:
What’s changing for you?
What chapter is closing?
What door is opening?
Whether you are packing boxes or simply shifting internally, remember this:
You are not just moving. You are evolving.