Independence...For Real
50 Things to Blog About #4: The day you left home
The day I left home wasn't any big drama filled event. I lived at home all through college and decided that, if I moved out, it would be into my own home. I found a home and bought it in September 2009, at 26 years old, and got started on painting and filling it. And filling it was a lot of work, considering this was my first move out. I had no furniture to my name and plenty of space to fill. It took me about a month to get the key rooms painted and livable, which was basically my family room, kitchen, and bedroom. So the weekend after I felt satisfied with the progress of those rooms, I decided I was going to officially move in.
So that Sunday night I began pulling clothes out of my closet, because those were really the last items of mine I needed to move, and filling the backseat and trunk of my car. My dad was like "Are you going to start staying there tonight?" and I answered yes. There was no reason to prolong it. Although I felt a little weird about it. The home I was leaving was the only home I had really known. And I have a really close relationship to my parents so I was a little sad I was leaving them. But this was something I had to do. So I filled up the rest of my car, said my goodbyes, and took off.
The first couple weeks were really strange. I think i called my mom like everyday, once being to ask her how to cook sausage because I was trying to and it wasn't going so well. I think she felt really bad for me but I was like, hey, listen, I'm going to have to learn sooner or later. I also stayed out until 6 in the morning one night, just because I could.
This September will be five years since I bought the home, which is really crazy to think. A lot has changed since then. But the years I got to spend alone in my own home are years I will fondly remember. It was a freedom I had never experienced before and I'm glad and thankful that I was able to have that opportunity.
The day I left home wasn't any big drama filled event. I lived at home all through college and decided that, if I moved out, it would be into my own home. I found a home and bought it in September 2009, at 26 years old, and got started on painting and filling it. And filling it was a lot of work, considering this was my first move out. I had no furniture to my name and plenty of space to fill. It took me about a month to get the key rooms painted and livable, which was basically my family room, kitchen, and bedroom. So the weekend after I felt satisfied with the progress of those rooms, I decided I was going to officially move in.
So that Sunday night I began pulling clothes out of my closet, because those were really the last items of mine I needed to move, and filling the backseat and trunk of my car. My dad was like "Are you going to start staying there tonight?" and I answered yes. There was no reason to prolong it. Although I felt a little weird about it. The home I was leaving was the only home I had really known. And I have a really close relationship to my parents so I was a little sad I was leaving them. But this was something I had to do. So I filled up the rest of my car, said my goodbyes, and took off.
The first couple weeks were really strange. I think i called my mom like everyday, once being to ask her how to cook sausage because I was trying to and it wasn't going so well. I think she felt really bad for me but I was like, hey, listen, I'm going to have to learn sooner or later. I also stayed out until 6 in the morning one night, just because I could.
This September will be five years since I bought the home, which is really crazy to think. A lot has changed since then. But the years I got to spend alone in my own home are years I will fondly remember. It was a freedom I had never experienced before and I'm glad and thankful that I was able to have that opportunity.