I've been going through some changes these last few weeks (and no, I'm not talking puberty, that ship has sailed!).
I am moving out of my boyfriend's house. A big change, but something that has to happen.
I don't want to get deep into explaining this. It's between Sean and I and all I care about is that we understand each other, which we do. I have absolutely nothing bad to say about Sean. As a matter of fact, I have even more good things to say about him after this weekend. We're maintaining a strong friendship in hopes of the best for each other's futures, whether it's with each other or not.
So here I am, moving for the twentieth time in my life into my own place. Besides being more expensive to live on my own, there is the added complication of moving with a dog (so many rents don't allow pets).
I found myself last week touring apartments and then coming back so discouraged to Sean's wonderful house I've helped fix up. I have to keep telling myself I haven't earned a three bedroom house yet, and that's ok. This idea still takes some getting used to.
I'm lucky to have the support of family and friends during this time. My mother has been particularly supportive. She's right, this is a big change and I need somewhere nice where I can go and be happy alone." She doesn't want me to get a crappy apartment, even if it means she helps me with rent awhile.
So I'm searching for a place to call my own (and staying with a very generous friend until then). Sean and I have dinner plans for Wednesday. And I'm feeling good about what I'm doing.
It's said that with great love comes great risk. And I'm lucky to have such supportive people in my life to help me with the risky parts.