I sat in the middle of my living room floor and looked at
the boxes surrounding me. First day in the city, first day in my
"new" house, first day by myself… I kinda loved it!
Let me back up a bit. I had recently accepted a new job at a
publishing firm, which was part of big business Empire, in Seattle, and
therefore had to relocate. The reason I even chose this job in a city a few
hours away from my family is because I had inherited the house that I'm
currently sitting in. My grandma passed away a couple of months ago, and had
left me her beautiful (if somewhat dated) little house. I've been trying for
the last months to decide what to do with her house, and to me what felt right
was living in it. Selling it would have felt disrespectful to my grandma's
memory and also her wishes because she must have left it to me for a reason.
She knew how much I adored her house, and her decision to leave it to me had
meant (and still does) mean so so much to me.
Anyways, now I have a beautiful home here, although I still
have to make it my home. I start my new job in a couple of weeks, so this is
the perfect opportunity for me. I have to admit that I miss my parents and
brother like crazy. This is the furthest I have lived away from them, and I'm
not sure how to handle missing out on Sunday night dinners and multiple weekly
visits.
My best friend had also stayed behind. Breanne had started
out as my roommate in my first year at university, and we'd quickly become best
friends. Although we studied different majors and had later taken different
jobs, we have been inseparable for the last 7 years. Ugh I missed her already.
She promised me a visit within the next couple of months, and I'm already excited
about it!
I left one more thing behind, and that’s my boyfriend…make
that ex-boyfriend actually. We met when I was in my senior year in high school,
and he had already been at university for a year. He was everything I could
have ever wanted….attentive, charming, handsome, funny, and totally into me.
Things sort of began changing after a couple of years together. He wasn’t quite
so attentive anymore, he wasn’t very charming anymore, he'd put on a few pounds
and while that didn’t matter to me much, his complete lack of self-esteem did
matter. It just kept going downhill from there, and it is definitely not all
his fault. I was 17 when we started dating, and I know that I changed in the
last few years. I grew up, simple as that. But growing up also meant Lane (the
ex-bf) and I grew apart…majorly. We were together for 6 years and a bit, and
for the last two years all we did was fight. We weren't on the same page for
anything, and both of us seemed to be okay with being unhappy together. Well
that ended a few weeks ago when I made the decision to move here, and I told
him that: a) I didn’t want him to come
with me, b) I wasn’t sure where our relationship was going anymore, and c) that
we should see other people. Let's just say shit hit the fan, and things quickly
escalated from there to us no longer talking. Do I creep him on Facebook? Yup!
Do I really care what's going on in his life? I guess so. Do I miss him? Not at
all.
As for me, I was 23 years old, with a degree in Human
Resources. I am a people person and definitely not into spending too much time
by myself without a lot to do. I have a minor Pinterest addiction (I guess 6000
pins later we could consider it somewhat of a major addiction), love 80’s
music, mountains, and DIY projects (thanks to Pinterest).
I looked around my sunny living room, currently cluttered
with boxes, and smiled. Life was just about to get good!
