Media Pendeja

I am back again with a different topic. Today’s dilemma. Should I be content with staying at my parent’s place? I guess that’s not exactly the best way to phrase it. Really what I mean, is when is the best time to move out? While I know that varies depending on the person, their family, economic status, location, it can still be a little overwhelming. I care less whether it is looked down upon or things along those lines, more than anything, I feel like I am a different person when I’m away. Let me explain.

I’ve left home once, for college. I’m not even sure if that really actually counts as leaving because I was still a dependent then. I was so attached to home, I would come back every weekend. Yes. Every weekend. I even scheduled my classes Monday through Thursday up until my junior year of college so I had more time to make the drive. To me, that felt good. I didn’t care that it was time-consuming.

Then it all changed. I stopped going as often, classes were a little bit harder and I really wanted to focus. I didn’t know what I was going to do after college (I still don’t know what I’m doing, but that is beside the point.) I decided to spend time with myself. I have never been the type to be super social, but I liked making my own routine. I liked cleaning my space, doing my laundry, having my downtime. Doing things at my pace. I left whenever I pleased and came back with that same mentality. I had my own keys, my parking space, and my own bills to be annoyed at each month. I know that’s not something that I’m supposed to miss, and I don’t, but it was good that I was responsible for myself. I decided I wanted to live my life that way, y’know, like all those people in the movies about being twenty-something and figuring out.

The problem with wanting to move out on my own and doing the damn thing was the timing. I am going to say what many independent women who despise the idea of relying on a man are going to cringe at… I wanted to move in with my boyfriend. He was going to go away for a couple of months, which ended up being a lot of months (that’s another story for later) and I didn’t really want to live with messy roommates anymore. I wanted to live with people who were going to have a job and a normal bedtime. So I thought that as much as I liked living by myself in a big city, I would go home to my parents and save for when the time is right.

Now that I’ve been home for nine months, yep, nine, I don’t know if I am making a mistake. Although nothing is concrete, plans are currently set for me to move out soon. I am both excited and terrified, especially since I haven’t yet mentioned it to my parents. While being in their home, I’ve noticed I really like the safety and comfort. I know what that sounds like, and you’re totally right. I get to be lazy and my mommy gets to cook for me. But, hear me out, I’ve always had a good relationship with my parents. I am always welcome home and they’re not in a rush to make me leave. In my head, I could get by with staying home longer and saving up money. I mean, I currently work from home and it’s nice to get to hang out with them in the evenings. Yet, I find myself bored of the town and annoyed with who I’ve become from time to time. I’ve lost drive because everything here is already familiar to me. There is nothing pushing me to discover new places, to push myself to meet new people, or even as simple as getting out of my PJs on some days.

I think as much as I love my parents and as beneficial it is to stay home a bit longer, it’s not good for me as a person. I know this may come out as privileged to some, and if it is, I apologize in advance. I just want to be challenged. I know I’ll always be able to come back home if something doesn’t work out. I just wish it wasn’t so hard. I will definitely deliver an update on what the outcome of this is, who knows, I could be talking out of my ass and stay here. Here’s to courage and potentially new beginnings.

– IC