When I moved out last year I wasn’t really sure if it was something permanent or a temporary change. All I knew was that I was tired of living at home and dealing with the nonsense. I found an apartment and signed the lease, but I didn’t move in until a month later. I told my parents during lunch after church on a Sunday and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever said to them. That their only child was moving out. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but growing up in a sheltered environment I wanted to explore the world and be free.
I wasn’t exactly sure, but I think deep down inside it felt right at the moment to move out. My mom gave me a lot of the things I needed a couch, kitchen essentials (pots and pans), laundry detergent, iron, etc. I never really bought anything big except for a new TV and the stand for it.
After about two months I felt a little homesick because I knew this wasn’t “home”. This wasn’t the place where I grew up with a lake near by where I’d take my dogs to the dog park or where traffic was always such a drag. It also made me realize how much I really love my parents and vice versa.
Flash forward to present time..I’m moving back home. Why? I honestly hate paying rent. Welcome to adulthood, right? I don’t mind bills so much, but rent! Jeez take all of my paycheck why don’t you?! Haha. Also because my parents are getting older and hopefully I’ll get married soon so I plan on saving for that and paying all of my school loans. There are so many things I want to do and living on my own I feel stuck. Yes, I have an okay paying job, but I don’t get paid enough to live comfortably.
Now it’s my last week at my first apartment. In a way it feels like I have to take a couple of steps back in order to move forward. It really is hard packing all of my things and move back home. I’m nervous/scared for what is to come of the home life again.