Home, Where Are You?

Two days ago I found out I'm moving for the eighth time in the span of five years. Multiply eight by two and you'll get the real amount of times I've actually had to move my things in or out of somewhere.

My brain hurts at the thought of having to tear apart yet another room that I finally got comfy as my home, to relocate somewhere else and do it all over again. I think most moves up until now have been more exciting than sad: A new adventure, fresh start, new roommate, etc. - but this time is different. Five months ago when I moved into my current place, I told myself, "Okay, literally, I'm not ever moving again. I'm AT LEAST staying in this place until I'm done with school in three years!" (In those words exactly). I think it's still too soon and fresh to even laugh about it now. *writes as I’m probably crying*

Adulthood has been quite the adventure, let me tell you (as if you didn’t already know).

There I was, starting my second year of my program at school as a full time student with an incredible amount of hours for projects outside of class, working very part-time with a dwindling savings account, and paying pretty much all of my bills on my own. My young, 20s self saw the situation as something to conquer. I don't think I was being naive, I think I was being any other 20-something wanting to take their life into their own hands.

I'd say I saw my life starting to fall apart about a month ago, but I didn't want to let go. I could see and feel what my family was thinking of me. 24, still in school just adding up debt they had always told me wasn't necessary if I would have just stayed in state or lived at home. I felt the pain and desperation every time I called my mom, crying over another bill I couldn't pay. Every night pushing still to not let my entire life slip from my hands. I can't fail now...

Can I tell you how NOT FUN it is to humble yourself and admit to people around you how much you're actually struggling? NOT. FUN. The amount of courage I've had to muster up each time I've had to tell someone I need help is more than I ever knew I had. Each time, I felt like a piece of my soul was crumbling off.

Let me also tell you some positives from this situation, and reasons why I haven't lodged myself between a rock and hard place.

I have such wonderful, amazing people in my life that LOVE me and care about me. Somehow I lost knowing that when I was faced with telling them the situation I had gotten myself into. Yet they didn't shame me, they didn't tell me everything I had done wrong, or how dumb I was; they encouraged and loved me right where I was.

I'm overwhelmed with stress, confusion and anxiety; but something keeps tugging at my heart telling me everything's going to be okay. So maybe I don't have a home or know the next time I'm going to be able to live in my own place, but sacrifices come with wanting to finish school and the program I'm in. Most importantly, God is still in control. As crazy as that sounds for me to even say that, when I'm physically falling apart at the seams, I know I would never abandon my belief in a good, good Father at such a time as this.

Stay encouraged, dear heart.

Here's to move number eight, and hopefully not moving again for the next couple years. (A girl can dream, right?)