I’ve lived on my own for 12 years.
For 12 years now, I’ve had my own apartment and lived alone…
…but now, mom wants me to move back in with her (and stepfather, and brother–when he’s out of jail, and sister in law).
Mostly it’s to help them out with bills and finances, because they really can use it…and I’d be paying/helping them out with a LOT. Close to 700-800 dollars a month…
…but it’s also in part because of my latest health problems, so that I can be around people most of the day and always have someone watching over me in case of an attack.
But anyway, I don’t really know how I feel about this. I mean, I’ve been on my own for so long now. I’ve kind of enjoyed living alone for a little over a decade, it can be calming and relaxing. Don’t get me wrong, being around family and friends is good too and I love that also, but it’s still going to be a pretty big change. Some part of me is just still fairly hesitant…for a few reasons.
I mean, what if I ever want to live on my own again? Right now I’m with a program that works kind of like a HUD home does and it helps me get cheap rent. I only pay about 30 percent and the company/program I’m with pays the rest. It’s a great deal and it took me quite a bit of work to get on this program. …So what if I’m ever finding myself needing to get on it again? Will I be able to? Will it be hard to? All of these questions run through my head and I’m having all of these little reservations about it.
Also, I own two cats. I love cats…especially MY cats. I’ve had one for almost 11 years now and that’ll be weird to move in a house with her (the cat, not my mom). I’ve been living in an apartment the last decade, so moving back into a house is weird.
Again, Don’t get me wrong, I love being in a house, because it’s big and spacious, but I still am finding it just a little hard to let go of my apartment.
Another problem is the way mom and I will usually clash. We’re very different people. I’m a (single) guy and lived as one most of my life and she’s the nitpicky sort who comes from a home that had military-type cleaning expectations. I’m talking the bed must be made at all times and when you eat something you CANNOT drop a single crumb and she’s following around everyone who comes in with a broom and mop ready to clean up any imagined footprints she thinks they’re leaving. And me…shit, there are times I don’t make my bed for days. We butt heads a lot over issues like that. Issues so small and mundane but that get made into molehills and then mountains…for example: Where chips are allowed to go.
Now see, when I open a bag of chips, I’ll eat some and then wrap them up and put the chips on the counter, in the kitchen, usually in a corner…for easy snacking access again. And every time she comes over to visit me (which used to be once every two weeks), she’d put the chips away into the cupboard.
But see, I don’t want them in the cupboard. I want them on the counter. To her, though, having chips on the counter, even if they’re wrapped up, is messy. It’s the signs of a messy house. ALL CHIPS AND COOKIES MUST GO IN THE CUPBOARD. Just like all bread has to go in the fridge…that can’t be left out either, not even if you have a breadbasket. “Chris, the bread is going to go bad if it’s not in the fridge. You DO know it stays fresher longer in the fridge? Let’s put it in the fridge for you.” She’ll nag.
But no…I don’t want it in the fridge. I want it in the freaking bread basket. I like it soft and warm, not cold. And besides, I will usually finish the bread before it ever has a chance to go bad anyway. Oh…but pay no attention to the fact that it’s my fucking apartment and not hers either.
So anyway, those are just some examples of the ways we’re always butting heads, so I’m not sure I’m ready or want to move back in with her where I KNOW the rules are going to be made by her, me paying lots of rent or not.
Mom says we don’t have to really make a decision until my lease is up (which is not for about another half year), but I don’t know…I sort of LIKE and VALUE my independence. Most of my life I lived with my dad or was homeless (until age 23, when I got my own place), so it always felt like I’d NEVER get my own place…until one day, I did. It finally happened and I had a place to call my own. I was finally living alone, in my very own apartment. And it felt good.
Now…it’s just going to feel a little too much like I’m dependent on others if I do this. “OH, you’re living back at home with your mommy? Mommy taking care of you again? Living in your parents “basement” at age 35?” are just a few thoughts I hear echoing in my head, as if I can imagine what people would think if they knew.
Even if it mostly IS just to help them out with money and bills, I just feel like I’m going to lose a part of myself that I will never get back again…or, at least, not get back again any time soon.
So…these are things that fill my thoughts these days and…I don’t know…I guess I’m just looking for some insight, suggestions, advice, feedback, thoughts, opinions, and personal experiences on what I should do…or at least to help me make an easier decision.