In one week I’m moving to this gorgeous condo, and I’m terrified.
I’m also thrilled, anxious, happy beyond words, excited….
The last time I moved was in the midst of what is probably rock bottom in my life. I had to pack what I could into an SUV that my aunt paid for and move my life from the place I STILL consider home, New York City, to move back in little hillbilly Centralia, Wa, to live with my mom. At age 23.
I was miserable. When I got back to Centralia, I basically stayed in bed for two months. I felt lost, alone and most importantly, I felt like I had failed.
Now here I am, three years later, finally moving out of my mom’s house, and back on my own. I’m terrified because it ended so badly last time, but hopeful that now that I have my feet under me and a great job to back me up, I can make it.
I won’t let it end the same way again. I can’t.
