If you asked me what I wanted to be when I was in 2nd grade, I would have said a brain surgeon. I was going to cure Alzheimer’s . In 7th grade, I wanted to be a stock broker. I was a part of the “Young Investors Club” (and the Science Club…yes, nerdy me.) and I traded fake stocks as well and read the Wall Street Journal during SSR. I honestly didn’t know what all of those numbers meant but I tried my hardest to understand. As a child, and a twentysomething, I’ve always had a plan…ambitious plans. I appreciate challenges, always have. It’s probably why I love living in the city. Learning my way around a city, maybe getting a little lost (Lower Queen Anne is my weakness) is all a challenge and I value the feeling of being independent in an environment that was once difficult. I’ve always wanted to grow up sooner than I should. I swear I’m 5 years older than I should be, stuck in a 23 year old body… which isn’t so bad, right? It’s led to taking on more than I should, wanting to grow up a little faster than I should….
Although in the past weeks I’ve realized through a series of events how I place too much identity and value in that independence. It’s funny how God brings you through situations to point you to ONE thing and that situation was an annoying search to find an apartment. It was producing all sorts of confusion and frustration. I was REALLY looking forward to getting my own place, expanding my territory, and not following the status quo of “moving back to the parents place” because since 2nd grade, I’ve been bigger than that. But it’s funny how things happen. I was at work, getting ready to call the house in Wallingford to let the owner know I was going to move int. People, it was my dream house. A block from Gasworks as well as the Seattle skyline, original hardwood floors, AMAZING KITCHEN…oh my gawd it was perfect, lots of free parking, decent rent. Anyway, I told myself I would call the woman at 12pm which was my lunch break. Instead, my mom then calls me and tells me that I shouldn’t, that I should consider a new place, to get a new apartment, start the search again. This caused me to reconsider the entire thought process that I managed myself through and I was so worn out from the whole search as well as overwhelmed by various parts of my life, I broke. I don’t cry often… but I just burst into tears on the phone because I was annoyed, mad, confused, PMSing, tired and just SICK OF the lack of control I had in my own life. Part of me refused to consider moving home because I wanted to be ambitious and NOT do that. My Dad told me one day “Marsha, you have a lot of plans…you should move home…”. I defensively told him “NO…I will not do that”. Nothing against my parents, I love them. I just didn’t want to be away from my city, friends, church, salsa venues, good food, yoga studios, beautiful people. BAH. To move home would be a step backward in the direction that I hoped to head in…
So, the outcome. I’m moving home… but only 20 minutes away from Seattle!! Don’t worry!
Haha. Yes. People, don’t let your stubborn tendencies get in the way of the right thing to do. You might be thinking, “Marsha, dumb story… why did you spend time typing this”. NO, it’s not dumb. I’m saying that you should learn from my dumb mistake, put your pride away and follow what is best for you. No matter how engrained it is into your personality. I could have avoided all of that emotional strife by being SENSIBLE.
I’m excited to move home now…not the actual process of moving, but to live there. My Dad remodeled the bathroom downstairs, and he’s currently remodeling the house down the street so maybe I’ll help him lay some sheet rock one of these days. I’ll still be highly in touch with my beautiful city… I already know of several beds and couches that are open to me in case I’m out too late. *cough*Laura*cough*. I’m at peace with the concept that my perceived independence is going to be put on hold until the end of this year so I can create a solid savings for myself, reset my life, buy a car and gain some perspective on my next steps.
Roll with the punches, people. Life is hard, hearts get broken, you make mistakes. But I have faith it always works out in the end 
It’s called HOPE.
xo
M
(that “M” up there is the 777th letter in this blog, just wanted to say… it’s a heavenly post!)
