18 May 2021

I had always wanted to move out of home the second I graduated high school.

I dreamed of having my own space. Finding a greater sense of responsibility and independence. Carving out a place where I can undeniably be myself.

My home town was, without sounding too dramatic and angsty, suffocating. I'd walked down the same street every day of my entire life. Man, I just wanted to walk down a new street.

So, I saved my dosh like a champion if I do say so myself. I hardly ate food out, I didn't buy coffees and I limited my clothes and book purchases. Maybe I was a little stingy at times, but I knew that the dollarydoos I was saving would go towards rent, bills, and groceries eventually. That always put a smile on my dial. 

I finally packed my bags with anticipation and moved into my new apartment. After a day of bringing furniture and appliances inside with the help from my 'rents, I closed the front door and said later to my creators. A bittersweet feeling overwhelmed me as I realised that I didn't live with my parents anymore... It felt weird... but then I realised that I was FREE!

 

Things were fun, adventurous and new for a while. Until they weren't.

Moving out brought out the worst habits in me. First of all, there’s no dressing it up – moving out costs an arm and a leg. My savings were plummeting lower and lower whilst I struggled to balance my new job and uni, as well as starting a social life in a new place. Overwhelmed with my lack of money and time, I lived on cheap cereals, frozen pizzas, and the tried and true class, two-minute noodles. 

With my munted diet, I became lethargic and slack. I never did any cleaning. Instead of washing my dishes and scrubbing the bathroom, I partied. See, I refused to say "no" to any social gathos because I desperately wanted friends in my new city. 

I couldn't comprehend how people could muster enough time and energy to actually look after themselves whilst working and studying. I was way over my head here and I painfully realised that whilst I'd been dreaming for this for so long, I wasn't ready.

I didn't want to admit that for so, so long because I felt like a loser. But in retrospect, fair enough that I was overwhelmed! I was 18 years old trying to juggle a million things. That bittersweet feeling grew as well - I missed my parents. I missed my old room, aircon, nice groceries, my dogs, even my gremlin brother. 

So what did I do? I definitely could have benefited from moving back home for a little bit. But, I didn't wanna ditch uni because I was genuinely loving the course. I did what any 18 year old should do: Called my mum. Absolutely no shame.

She said it was all about finding my rhythm and routine. I started with small steps, like waking up half an hour earlier to make a healthier breakfast and prep my lunch for the day at uni or work. I'd even try to fit in a sprinkle of exercise just to make me feel all the more on top of things.

I took time to sit down and sort out my budgeting. I found a sweet spot of working enough to live and earn some savings, but not too much that I didn't have time to study and felt exhauuusted.

Of course I went to a party here and there. I'm young, sue me. But less grog + less hangovers = time to stay on top of things. It took a few weeks. Heck. Probably months. But I eventually found a swing of things. 

If you're in the same boat, take it step by step and don't be so hard on yourself! Moving out of home is a massive leap!