Thursday, 20 August 2015
Why moving back in with my parents doesn't mean I have failed
It has taken me a long time to feel like I can post this article. I have had it in my drafts for around two months, when I first made the decision to return to my parents and was originally going to write it, to console myself. But then I kept on putting it off and before I knew it, I was back here and not very ok with that. So, as I feel like this is a very honest and personal post, I had to honestly feel good about being back in my childhood home before I could put it up.
Anyone who knows me will be able to tell you...I am very independent. This is one of my defining characteristics. And it is not that I particularly like being on my own, but I am very comfortable being in my own company blogging or writing or wandering a new place, exploring or going to meet new people or whatever. I am completely cool with that.
So having the realisation a month ago that I was going to have move back in with my parents (and subsequently doing it) was a really really tough decision to make.
I haven't lived with my parents full time since I was 11 years old when I started boarding school. I only spent the odd weekend, and some long holidays with them. The longest of which was the 2 month summer holiday. That means that in the past 12 years, the most time I have spent with them in one solid lump, is 2 months. And since I moved out about 3 years ago, the most has been about a fortnight at a time.
While most people are scared to move out, I was terrified about moving back. Will I still get on with the parents? Will I be lonely (I have very few friends in their little village - the problem of boarding school). Will I ever get a job and move out again or will I be stuck there for the next 10 years?
I knew it was a sensible decision. I needed to rest, recharge my batteries, sort my eating, finish my book and find a career. All this could be done from the comfort of my parents' house. My blogging would be largely unaffected. Friends would not be impossible to travel to. This was the absolutely best decision I could make back then. So why was I actually so scared?
It was mostly the feeling that I was going backwards.
And this is what I have really struggled with over the past few weeks, however much I tell myself that I haven't gone backwards at all. I have simply sidestepped on to another path, which, yes, may be a little bit muddy and unclear at the moment (a bit like a dirt track right now) but it will sort itself out soon.
And while it does sort itself out, what is the actual problem with me getting a bit of support from those people who love me most? Everyone else my age seems to have moved back home (about 90% of them anyway) and it really is the best position for me to be in, where I spend very little money and can simply save without any stress.
I just count myself lucky that I have SUCH support from my family. I wouldn't be where I am today, without them.
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