It’s quite odd if you ask me.
As I write this, I’m sitting on my bed that is currently being held up by my first “big girl” bed frame, which is conveniently placed in my new home. It feels weird saying and it will for a while but, I’m home, in my apartment. The past week was filled with last minute packing, loading and unloading cars, unpacking, putting my first piece of furniture together, and trying to figure out how to organize my own place.
I spent the weekend just getting used to the feeling of being out of my parent’s house, but I caved today and went home because I was tired of being so bored. I’m lucky that I have the family I do. My parents have given me everything and more; they’ve helped me so much not just throughout the past year and a half with getting ready to move out, but for the past 19 years they’ve been prepping me for this. Now obviously they weren’t doing that so when I was 18 they could kick me out and get rid of me. They did it to help me because their experience of being moved out is on the opposite side of the spectrum I am on. They’ve done everything to help prepare me so that I could be ready and successfully move out and not have to struggle the way they did.
My brother has been my entertainment for 14 years. He’s always been under the same roof as me so when I need a laugh or a hug, he’s just a holler away (literally). It’s weird not hearing him slamming doors (by accident) or hearing his laugh echo through the vents from his room to mine. Those little things were what defined “home” for me. Having my brother and parents around me at times when I didn’t want to be around them or at times I desperately needed to be around of them was what helped me get through my day, whether I knew it or not.
Never Been Good at This “Adult-ing” Thing
Gus is here with me and as I’m typing away he’s snoring and making whimpering noises because even in his dreams he knows Kodee is at the gym and not home cuddling him. I can hear the washer and dryer, along with the dishwasher, gently thumping away across the hall. I’ve got Spotify playing my ‘Bedtime Playlist,’ with my essential oils being diffused to help Gus and I relax. I can also faintly hear the trains passing through town every so often.
With all the above going on, I’m also texting my mom because we’re getting better at not calling each other every hour. Now we’re just calling each other every other hour and texting the rest of the time. As I sit here telling you all about what’s going on, I’ve realized that this feeling I’m having right now is already starting to blend into the feeling of “home.” I am lucky to have such a loving family and supportive parents who’ve allowed me to go through this experience. I’ve always known that my family is the most important thing to me. The whole reason why I stayed home during my first year of college was that I knew I wasn’t ready to leave them. I’m still not ready to leave them, nobody is ever really ready, but now I’m a little bit more prepared to be on my own and only 45 minutes away from them. That’s all the “space” I need from my family, just those 45 minutes is more than enough for me. Where my family is will always be my home, but now this will just my home away from home.