This time last year, I had an apartment 16 miles south of Seattle. It was a cute two bedroom, two bathroom upstairs corner apartment completely devoid of normal furniture. In my room, Harry Potter and Megatokyo posters lined the walls. The floor was covered in books, just like the mantle over the fireplace. I didn’t have a mattress, but rather a foam mattress topper covered by Star Wars sheets and quilts.
The apartment had a tiny galley kitchen. Cabinets above the electric stove held the essentials of life: olive oil, various spices, honey, and Necco wafers. My sister and I split the rest of the cabinets in half, storing our preferred foods in clearly defined spaces. KaLynne’s cabinets were filled with pasta and trail mix. Mine were filled with tea and protein powders. The fridge was never to be opened for fear of what might still be in there, and our liquor cabinet was pitifully lacking. We drank protein shakes, milk shakes, and wine out of mason jars.
This time last year, I had an apartment 16 miles south of Seattle, but I had already moved back home to Chandler due to taking a new job. I’ve been living at home for 13 months now, and while I love my mother, I feel like I’m sliding backwards on the “Child – Adult” scale. I finally have a job that will allow me to both pay my bills and pay down my debts (as long as I don’t walk into a bookstore or go out to eat too often). Life basically feels like I’m running up a hill covered in ice, and I when I do manage to progress, I hit another patch of ice, fall forward, smack my face on a protruding boulder, and slide down.
As of Thursday, my brother and I were approved for an apartment, which means that things are looking up for me in the “becoming an adult” department. It’s terrifying and exciting all at the same time. We’ve both lived away from home before, under very different circumstances, and this is the first time that either of us will have a real support system in place (last time, mine was three states away and his was non-existent). On Saturday, I created a primary budget, a contingency budget, and an “if I win the lottery” budget, and the good news is that we’re going to be okay no matter what.
What are the steps you’re taking toward adulthood? If you feel like an accomplished adult (maybe 1% of the human population), what was the most terrifying piece of your transition? Comments are ALWAYS welcome!