Moving out is very scary and intimidating. I can still picture myself, covered in blankets and squeezing my plushie to my chest while crying on my new matress which was laying on the dusty ground of my new room. That´s how my first night in my new living situation went. But this will be discussed in another post.
Today, I want to talk about how it feels when your real home changes. Whatever this may be to you. It could be your parent´s house, in which you grew up, your best friend´s house, where you experienced your first sleepover and your first hangover or it could be the park bench that offered you comfort and a moment of stillness whenever you had a lot to think about.
The concept of „Home“ is very abstract and as individual as the variations in which it comes. However, in my case home is primary my family as well as my friends. Sure, the house in which I made my first steps means a lot to me, but I feel home wherever my family is.
That´s why I was quite shocked, when my brother told me, that he is going to change location. For me, this sentence could be easily replaced with „yup, that´s it, family is no more“. I´ve always reacted very strong to changes. When I graduated high school, I was devastated. Suddenly, the hardly working drinks vending machine was all I longed for and the thought of getting up at 5 AM for school had the same effect on me like the thought of waking up in a dreamy mansion with a fully prepared, fancy brunch á la Gossip Girl already waiting for me.
In short: I was a mess. While my friends burned their papers and essays, casually living their best lives, I was watching every school-related romcom, looking at pictures which have been taken during classes or breaks, wondering what the f is life even? So, when my mind processed, that my brother won´t be there anymore, whenever I decided to visit my family over the weekend, the dramatic ass in me pressed the ALARM! CATASTROPHE! – button, fully prepared to change into fighting mode.
But then, something weird happened: I stopped her. I took some breaths. I actually smiled and told my brother „Oh great, I´ve always wanted to see that city, (which was a lie, until then, I hardly knew that this place existed) -make sure to have some blankets ready, when I come over“.
See, I guess that growing up is so packed with changes and you somehow get used to that. It affects everyone and everything. I figured, that changes don´t always have to be a bad thing or a potential threat. They can be a chance, too. Maybe even a contribution?
Of course I will miss my brother, that´s clear. But I know that I´m going to be fine once I get used to his empty room and the missing cloud of strong-men-deodorant whenever I enter the bathroom.
That´s what growing up is all about. Facing changes all the time and eventually becoming comfortable with that, because at the end of the day you will always have yourself to rely on.
So the next time a change appears, please switch head over heels to ALARM! CATASTROPHE! -mode. Just remember that you will be fine and that most of us look better in everyday clothes than in battle suits.