Try #11 | Home Sweet Home

You know that movie Failure to Launch? The movie about a grown man who won’t move out of his parents’ house? Apparently, in the movie adaptation of my life, I am portrayed as a boy and played by Matthew McConaughey.

To be fair, I wasn’t living with my parents because I loved the laundry service and home-cooked meals (oh, but did I love them), it was because I had nowhere else to go. Divorce will do that to ya. On my own, I didn’t make enough to rent an apartment, and for that matter, I didn’t want to live in Salem. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t find a job that would pay me a living wage. But with hindsight being 20/20, I know now that I was supposed to be home. I was an emotional shipwreck; practically unsalvageable. I was supposed to be home because home is where I healed. It’s where I remembered what it felt like to have carpet under my feet and not on my face. It’s where I remembered where I started, which made learning how to start again a lot easier.

It took a while, but finally, I found a roommate and made the big move to Beaverton. It was immediately followed with regret, heartache and anxiety. I was still 20-minutes from the city I wanted to be in, where all my friends were, and where the streets were familiar and comfortable. I was homesick for my city, for my family, for the past. My anxiety was through the roof with two dogs that did not get along and could not be left alone. I held out, though, knowing a month later I would have new roommates. Enter: Nate and Yelena, two of the most loving, kind and generous people that I know to exist. They became my anti-anxiety pill. The minute they moved in, I started to breathe again, and as a bonus, their dog and mine were instant friends. They were the reason I was able to stay in Beaverton for the nine months that I did.

While I was fairly happy, I still wasn’t at home. I kept to my room. I barely unpacked. The majority of the house belonged to Nate and Yelena (and I was fine with that) but I wanted my own space. I needed to feel independent. But most importantly, I wanted the hell out of Beaverton.

With a new, miraculous, incredible, answer-to-prayer job in Vancouver, I signed out of my lease early and held my breath. Nothing to do but wait to be led to a place I could afford, in a decent location, that allowed dogs, and felt right.

It was a rough ride. My heart was broken a couple times over places that I thought were perfect, that I wanted desperately, but fell through. I couldn’t understand why. Why? Why? I am always asking why. WHY should be tattooed on my forehead; it should be written on my tombstone. Yet, no matter how many times I ask “why”, I am consistently met with grace, patience, and eventually, an answer that is one-thousand times better than I ever expected or dreamed.

I wish I would reflect on this more often.

From the moment I walked in, I knew. I signed the papers that afternoon. My teensy-tiny studio apartment, complete with a murphy bed (that I swore I wouldn’t use but now love), a beautiful kitchen that takes up half the studio space, and a washer/dryer combo in unit! IN UNIT, PEOPLE. That doesn’t happen. Not only were my prayers answered, but they were answered with luxurious, in-home, do-it-at-11pm-because-I-can convenience. Unbelievable.

It’s been six months now and from time to time, I still find myself unlocking the door, stepping inside, and feeling incredulous and overwhelmed. This is my place. The word grateful doesn’t even begin to describe it.

A little studio. A little space. A little independence. All adding up to many little steps in the right direction.



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