Season 1 eps 3

I used to have this 17-page tall stack of papers that when strategically sprawled out across the floor designed exactly how I wanted my future home to be laid out. Some 11 year old girls crushed on boy bands while I spent my time browsing Zillow and watching too much HGTV.

My future dream home sat on a corner lot with a wrap around porch, partially screened-in, partially not. The home was white and not too tall with dark wood floors, a tiled entryway, and lots and lots of windows with sunlight. And it was massive, of course, an 11 year old with no worldly concept of money or self, dream designed it.

Now I’m 22 and tangible, physical stuff scares me. Did you know that it is an American concept to fantasize about and idolize your home? Sometimes I think about how many people own their own blender. I feel pretty confident that every single home on my block does. That’s like a minimum of 25 blenders in a 0.2 mile radius. We have created this society where we each customize our own bubbles of the same stuff but just a little bit different per residence. People love their stuff and their space because it’s their stuff and their space.

Anyway I’m thinking too hard while writing this and I’d rather just enjoy myself so I guess my point is like why do we care so much about our space? I feel like the more adult I become the less space I want. I’d rather pay more money for a safe neighborhood and a clean, mold free space rather than size. In fact I’d rather have less space. Less space equates to less stuff and stuff weighs us down even if we don’t necessarily realize it. It’s a little tough because there are all these different categories to “stuff”. We have clothes and furniture and pets with their pet stuff and stuff for memory purposes and holiday stuff that we use once a year (don’t get me wrong I do love decorative festivities, it does make everything a little more exciting). And truly I probably am the minority in this but I do have all this stuff and yet I cycle the same rotation of clothing every week or so and the main thing I use every day is my phone and my backpack and sometimes my bike and sunglasses and jewelry if I’m feeling it. But I have all this extra stuff that just sits and I think about it sometimes and kinda wish I could get rid of it all but I’m scared that I will miss some of it when it’s gone or I’ll accidentally through away the memories that old me wishes I kept. At what point do you let it all go and accept that some memories stay and some leave and it’s inevitable that you’ll miss things but the act of missing maybe means more than the memory ever meant in the first place.

I like being home for the night time and I think my brain likes it best that way as well. Then I don’t spend too much time in my bed or in the fridge or cramped inside with my own thoughts. Because when I do spend too much time in my bed not sleeping I end up remembering that I’m 22 and I’m back to being someone’s kid in my pre-college bedroom surrounded by so much stuff from so many versions of myself, none of it that I even really touch, and I find myself wanting to take out 17 pages of paper and design my future dream house.

I’m 22 and I’m coming on a year of being home since I graduated college and the other day I remembered that not making a decision is still making a decision. And I stopped making decisions a long time ago. There was a day like a year and a half ago where I was bawled up in one of the corners of my college bedroom and I realized that I didn’t recognize my life anymore. I was sobbing on my floor and I just had no idea how I even got to that point or by what decisions I had made that led to me reach so low I couldn’t even imagine a high. I remember being so scared and that sounds literally so dramatic but it definitely didn’t feel dramatic and I was there so I know but I didn’t even want to get up from the floor because I felt so lost because I didn’t even know how I got there in the first place, by what decisions brought me this low. So I think I just stopped trusting myself. Which to be honest I don’t think I had much trust with myself in the first place but since then I’ve been really working on developing a relationship built on trust with myself for myself.

Anyway, I don’t know where I thought I would be by now but essentially I realized like a week ago that I just do not make decisions anymore because I’m lowkey scared of them but also by not making decisions, I am still just inversely making a decision. Like I feel like I am just choosing to see if I get put on a long term work project or scrolling through Chicago roommate facebook groups just to window shop or just not really doing anything to get to a point of living independently again and there are so many arguments for why it wouldn’t make sense for me anyway right now (Tink for one) but that’s essentially saying I am choosing to live at home and I guess I am but I’ve never thought about it like that and I am rally ready to not be here anymore but also I am so scared to make a decision to leave and then it ends up being a bad decision or I feel lonely or life feels harder and there are so many arguments for it going good too but I am just scared. I am scared to ever feel the way I felt a year ago again and I am afraid to commit to Chicago because truthfully I don’t want to live in a city. But also my job is in the city and jobs don’t just go away. Ugh I could spin myself a sphere reaching ever conclusion in every which way. Anyway I’ve got work tomorrow in Rockford so I should probably go to bed. Enjoy this raw melancholy episode, sorry. Until next time