Staying at Meriwether

Sometimes the life you dream of is not the life you actually need. The key is figuring that out before it's too late.


For months now I've been making plans and doing research and getting my stuff in order -- all towards the goal of moving out on my own. I've never lived alone in my life, and I was longing for the order and the control I could have in going solo. Cohesive decorations, matching dishes, no one to blame but myself for clutter - just me. I've loved the Meriwether house - our neighborhood, the proximity to all things awesome, my little garret room (though I wish I had a closet) I just have been craving a little bit of something new, and a lot of stability. I'm trying to put roots down in order to cultivate contentedness in my career, but its kind of hard to do that when your house still feels like a dorm.

So, a month ago, I started apartment hunting, house hunting, anyplace that would give me shelter hunting. With in the first two weeks, I found a little duplex that I liked, not far away from my peoples. I applied, and was approved. I was able to relax for a week, leading up to the date that I could sign the lease, but then the morning of that day, I got a call from the realtor who had been the go-between for the owners and myself. She very apologetically told me that they had decided to give the house to someone else, right out from under me. I hadn't signed anything, and no money had changed hands, so I wasn't too mad... just a little sad. I understood that business was business, though their business was a little inconsiderate.  A little discouraged, I set to work again, but not with out a little seed of doubt. was this the right decision?  




I didn't want to give up just because there was a hiccup in my path, but then, my remaining two roommates were also starting to find it hard to find a place to live as well. After all, they couldn't keep the Meriwether house with just the two of them. I pushed the feeling away a continued on. 

That brings us to this week, where Monday was The Worst(TM) -- without going into boring detail, lets just say that even smart Millennials can get sucker-punched by scammers -- and Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday just hung in limbo.  Friday, I finally picked up the ball again, and found an apartment near my workplace that was clean, quiet, had nice management, and really affordable rent. It was all perfect, EXCEPT for the fact that I had been swearing from day 1 that I wouldn't move to the town where I work -- for multiple reasons, the biggest being that I would probably be less likely to interact with people I know in the city if I lived that far out of it. I reasoned that away however, because I was tired of looking. 
My mom kept asking "do you love it?" at every place I looked at. I didn't love anything, but I'm not an overly emotional person when it comes to housing. (unless its that adorable house on Westwood that I would never be able to afford in this stage of life...) I can make literally anything work for me with a string of twinkle lights and a pennant bunting. I told her this. She believed me. I believed me. I put in my application on the way home. 

But the minute I got home and started telling my sister about this place, I felt the doubt rising again. What about my rule about not leaving the city? what about friends? was I really making the right choice? Did I want to leave my roommates, and the conversations we had in the evenings after work? They were still having a hard time finding their own place... and I felt bad. Everything felt bad. 

I slipped outside and called my mom crying, asking for her help thinking things through. I told her what I really wanted was change, but maybe the two roommates leaving for marriage and other jobs would be enough change? Maybe I didn't need to move out. But I had this dream of solo life for so long! She started working her way down a list of points to check. She got to the issue of my support group and church, all based in the city. She brought up the same questions of my ability to interact with people and be involved from outside of the city.  Would people drop-by to visit? Would I make the effort to go out to them? all probable nos.  I started to see what I needed to do. 

After hanging up, I went back inside to the girls who were fixing dinner in the kitchen. Tears streaming, I asked them if we could not break up, and they adamantly accepted me back. For the first time in a month, a weight was lifted off of me, and the doubt left. I'm going to have to wait a little while to get the change (and the closet) I'm craving. But sometimes delayed gratification is that much sweeter.  

The Ladies of Meriwether will live on for another year... and hopefully many more. 



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