the big move

So I officially did it–I moved back to school, into an apartment I’ve never seen with people I don’t know. I have a lot of emotions today. I freaked out more than once, and I sweat a LOT. It has been an adventure.

The apartment is…sketchy. The community kitchen is in the basement, the bathroom is fairly disgusting, and one of the two light fixtures in my room is currently falling out of the wall. It took my mom and I an hour to get the lock on my room to work. My mom looked even more scared of the place than I did.

When my mom left I freaked out by myself for a little bit. I didn’t know what to do or where to start. The entire room was covered with all of the stuff I brought, and I didn’t know where to begin, or if I really wanted to begin. All that kept going through my mind was different variations of what in hell did I do?!

After a couple minutes of crying and semi-panicking, I got up, washed my face, and picked something to start with. I turned on some music and sang along, and I looked for things I knew where I was going to put. I did my clothes first to get some bags out of the way, then made my bed, organized my food and kitchen supplies, and finally did some decorating. As the room slowly cleared, my mind did, too. I began to see how it was becoming my space. I imagined myself getting ready for class and what that might look like. I got excited about decorating, adding some Christmas and LED lights, and then a bunch of art I printed off of Pinterest and other art I made. It began to become more and more mine.

By the end, my living there seemed more realistic. I was calm. I made a kickbutt collage on my wall, hung up some Christmas lights, and was beginning to feel more familiar with the space. And as I’m writing this now, I think the last piece of my outlook on the apartment situation for this year is finally snapping into place.

This summer my parents and I watched six seasons of the (hilarious and great) TV show The Middle. One of the characters, Sue Heck, is giving me inspiration for this one. In the show she is super try-hard and never gives up, but isn’t good at much of anything. She does her best, but no matter what she tries out or auditions for, she rarely makes anything, and it becomes a spoof on the show. No matter what, she’s always finding the best in the situation. So this is what I’ve decided to do for my situation, too.

My apartment is incredibly inexpensive. It makes sense that it isn’t the cleanest or most comfortable. But hey, I’m saving a ton money. I have my own space that I have leased for the next year. My decorations look super cute. I’m closer to campus than I was last year in a university dorm, which is kind of crazy when you really think about it. And can I really say I had a full college experience without having lived in a crappy apartment? Not really. I’m only going up from here. It’s like a rite of passage. And now I’m living it.

Let’s be clear, here: I’m still not super thrilled about the whole thing. Parts of it kind of suck. After taking a few deep breaths and getting a bit more settled, though, it seems possible. It’s a year of my life, and then I will get to decide where I go from there. I’m going to make it work.

So what does all of this have to do with recovery?

One thing I’ve realized is that I’m most likely to relapse when I make big changes–whether it be classes moving online, moving home, or people leaving. Moving back here, into a place I’d never seen, was another big change. And the fact that it isn’t all that great made me even more stressed and anxious about the whole thing.

My gut reaction when I saw where I’m going to be living the next year was to think, literally, I’m going to die here. I got eager for my mom to leave so I could hurt myself.

When she left, though, I didn’t. Yes, I cried. But then I got myself to do the healthy thing and slowly start unpacking and calming down. I realized that although my gut reaction was to make the self-destructive choice, I could make the healthy choice instead. I chose to stay.

When I was finishing up, I was breaking down some boxes that I was getting ready to recycle. I got out my boxcutter and flattened one of the boxes. As I was slicing the tape, I had a bizarre moment. I originally bought the boxcutter to hurt myself with. Then, this summer, I used it for my merchandising job, although I was still very aware of its original purpose. Mid-slice, I realized that my first thought about the boxcutter, for the first time ever (or at least the first time I recognized), it wasn’t about hurting myself. It was simply a tool I was using to break down the box. It was a strange moment because I could see my progress more distinctly. And it felt so freaking good.

This year is going to be strange. With COVID, though, and my adding late of a new major, it was going to be strange no matter where I was living. I’m proud of myself for taking the risk and moving somewhere new, trying something new. This is my first ever apartment–a real adult step. It feels important, and I plan on making the best of it. I’m starting to believe that I really can do it, and I’m excited to see where this all leads.

All my love,

Allie