A Place Called Home

Today I used the dishwasher for the first time in order to wash all the new kitchenware my roommate and I bought to create a functioning kitchen. As I was laboriously scrubbing the inside of the cabinets, I poked my head out at the change in tune the washer was sounding. I had a steaming waterfall in my kitchen, as all the water used to wash my dishes was now pouring all over the kitchen floor. I jumped down, scoured my furniture-less apartment for a rag of some sort, and was able to remedy the situation with minor finesse.

I am now sitting on the floor, as we still have absolutely nothing beyond the few kitchen-wares we bought and the clothes I’ve been trucking with me since April. The weather is cooling and my wardrobe is becoming more and more inadequate as I wait patiently for the moving truck to arrive (destined to arrive probably around Oct. 26^th). That truck will deliver some comforts—loveseat, warm clothes, puzzles…. Yet, we’ll still be out any tables or chairs, a full spice rack, and anything that resembles a fully furnished apartment.

I arrived last week to my new (actually, very old) apartment and had to begin my 8 hour workweek the next day. I have had barely any time to organize everything, get utilities set up, clean the place, and certainly no time to really relax. Eating has consisted mostly of snacks, throwing food into my mouth as I move along at a pace that shows no signs of slowing anytime soon.

With all that has been going on I just need to unload how overwhelmed I am feeling–how incredibly overwhelming happy I’ve felt these past few crazy hectic days. I feel as though I should feel nothing but stress; yet everything I’ve been doing has seemed like a dream come true. Some nights I step onto the back deck and listen to the wind rustling the giant evergreens in my backyard and can’t believe this life is my real life. I have never felt so in control of my life… and for so long I haven’t felt like I was anywhere close to home. But now I am home.

I allowed myself to trust my gut feeling to follow my dreams, even when those dreams were to stay put, stop traveling for a while. I can tell with certainty that I have followed the right path that has led me here, despite the confusion many people express at my wanting to settle for awhile; they said I was living a dream but at times I felt like I was barely living at all. My mother’s advice is right again… “the answer” isn’t traveling or getting married or finding your one true passion (though it could include any and all of these), “the answer” is following your gut. Stop reading articles on how to be happier and how to change your life, just start listening to yourself and certainly stop denying yourself. It may take a lot of wrong turns, but it you’re paying attention, you’re sure to figure out the direction you should be trekking. It will almost surely not be easy, but somehow you’ll still persist because you’ll know you have to. Then you may find yourself running through the woods of your new home state, looking up at the morning sun rays with tears running down your laughing face because, oh my god, you didn’t even know you could ever feel this good again.