Yesterday, I was asked by a co-worker, “where are you from?”
I had to pause and think about it. It was a weird feeling, but I guess my answer had to change sometime. I’ve been living on my own for a few weeks now, and there’s been a good number of adjustments I’ve had to make. I’ve started to hang decorations on the wall, make sure everything is staying clean, and have started becoming more familiar with the area (and navigating to/from work without a GPS! woah!)
It’s been a strange concept altogether. “Adulthood” has brought me an insanely stable schedule, to start. I wake up in the morning, go to work, come home, (maybe?) go to the gym, eat, watch TV, sleep, and repeat. Now that I live on my own in a new city, that schedule doesn’t have much variety. I don’t have too many friends in the area to grab dinner with, hang out at a bar with, or run to the mall with. Fortunately for me, that’s changing a little bit! Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?
“Adulthood” has also required me to learn to swim without a life jacket. (That was a metaphor. I know how to swim.) Moving in to my first (real) apartment on my own instantly threw a good number of responsibilities at me that I, admittedly, wasn’t ready for. Being super fiscally responsible, doing ALL the chores on the list, making sure everything’s working right, locking my door at night…everything. Combine that with trying to have a social life, figure out work responsibilities, and understand the area I’m living in? It’s tough.
But, when it comes down to it, I live here now. I get my mail here, sleep here, have my own food in the fridge, and can invite friends over without consequence or concern for anyone else. It’s an interesting feeling, but incredibly amazing at the same time. Is this what growing up feels like?