The first time I moved out I was 17, naive and ready to hit the ground running. Having always been an unsociable hermit with way too many extra curricular activities, my parents never really had to set guidelines or boundaries… and they definitely didn’t have to give me a curfew.
Suddenly I was 1,000 miles away from home, ready to experience life for the first time. I, like so many who ventured off to college, believed it would be a wild adventure of firsts where I could totally re-invent myself. Turns out I am pretty stuck in my ways. While my roommates were out all hours of the night partying, I was at my desk watching Netflix and doing my homework.
This move was different. I was not moving to some foreign city, or going off to college, I was simply moving out on my own. It’s funny how sometimes the drastic changes can be easier. I found this second move a lot harder and a lot lonelier. Maybe this is because I know that the comforts of home are now just a drive away, and not a ferry or a plane ride back. I had become accustomed to hot home cooked meals waiting for me when I got home, and my bathroom magically cleaning itself. It was almost as though college had never happened and I was back in high school.
Sometimes I do wish I could rewind. Sometimes I wish I had thought more thoroughly about my choices for post secondary. I wish I had done more research so I wouldn’t be stuck with the harsh reality that I am now nearly $50,000 in debt pursuing a career choice that would have never made me happy.
What I do know is that change, no matter how big or small, forces us out of our daily routine and sometimes it’s the bitter pill we need to swallow. While this latest move isn’t exactly what I expected, I think it’s what I needed.