I sit here, 7am, on a Saturday, writing. Normally, I am BEYOND comatose. Saturday mornings I try to sleep in a bit so that I can recharge from the week. Not this Saturday, today...I move.
Today, I move into the first place since my first little apartment after college, that I qualified for all on my own. No roommates, just me and 720 square feet of mine. (To answer the question, no, I don't own it, I'm renting, but still...it's mine.) It's closer to work, it's closer to a lot of my friends and church, and I'm not living in my parents' basement at age 31.
I'm ready to be on my own, have been for a long time, but until now, due to unforeseen circumstances that were beyond my control and the grace that my parents have shown me (more than I'd care to admit or deserve), I wasn't truly ready or appreciative.
ROOMMATES AND RENTAL HISTORY
I had my freedom, or at least pieces of it for a long time until I discovered those pesky little things called credit cards. This led to my first stint at living at home (this was many moons ago, and at this point I had lived with one girl who had never lived away from home before or gone to college, (she was 3-4 years younger than I) and a friend from college). I will never deny that I dug myself into that hole, and I've had some help digging out of it. Then, I moved out with two roommates, and while I never felt so safe as living with the boys and all the firepower they kept in the house, sadly the bills weren't getting paid by one of the roommates, causing me to have to pay most of them by myself or at least 2/3. I moved home again after that fiasco. Then, a friend from church offered for me to live with her at a very reasonable rent and I took her up on it. Looking back on the situation, I definitely learned what NOT to do. But, I am trying to move past that 8 months of my life, and move on. I've never been one whose dwells on the hurts of the past, and since this is one I am having a hard time letting go of, I need to work on it. My new roommate (me) and I get along great, although at times we piss each other off. However, at least arguments between us end up pretty one sided and easy to win. I'm looking forward to it.
GOOD OLD ARVADA
I've been very lucky in the times where I have needed to for multitudes of reasons, to be able to move back home with my folks. Is it my ideal? No. Is it humbling? As all get out. Is it where I was supposed to be? Apparently. I hope my parents know that I have never tried to purposefully take their kindness, support and love for granted, no matter how frustrated with my living situation I am/was.
I have to be honest, this time, leaving home is a bit more bittersweet. I loved being here while my sister was here before her wedding. Melissa and I have grown closer in the last few years, but being able to help her day in and day out (when we both were home) with wedding details, help her with things that only a sister can, all those little things. I've been home leading up into my brother's wedding. Now, this is completely different than helping in your sister's wedding, but I have gotten to spend time with my soon to be sister-in-law and have loved hanging out with her and getting to know her a bit more.
This last stint at home, I've been a lot more financially stable than in the past, with occasional moments of weakness/stupidity, but I can honestly say I'm doing a lot better than before. I have my dad to thank for that, many knock down, ugly nights of sitting in the den looking at my checking account, trying to figure out what my next move should be (no judgment, at 30 yes, I still didn't have all my spending under control, but hey, I'm getting better) etc. Now, I'm doing a heckuva lot better than when I started this last journey.
I'll be honest, no rent is a great reason to stay somewhere, but it's not always the best. My folks are getting older, and are ready for their empty nest in ways, but I think that come April, after my brother and sister in law get married, and I'm gone, and Melissa will have been gone for a year, they are going to be in for a bit of a shock to not have one of us around, or our multitudes of friends,
parading through the house.
parading through the house.
I feel, in ways, like this is the first of many firsts this weekend, and while I'm slightly sad at the thought of moving away, it's bittersweet excitement that I feel, because while I may be leaving my folks house (which is exciting don't get me wrong), I know it will always be home. The excitement part comes in because it's a new chapter in my life, and hopefully this chapter will bring closure, peace and forgiveness to parts that have been churned up and frustrating for so long.