How I Live Now
I live in my parents’ basement. I know this is actually quite common–graduating from college combined with uncertainty about the future equals moving back in with Mom and Dad for a bit. Back into your childhood bedroom, or maybe the guest room.
Except that I’m not living with Mom and Dad, I’m living with Mom and (step-)Mom. So is my little brother (age 23) and my little sister (age 3). And they’ve taken all the spare rooms, so I sleep in the laundry room, with sheets for walls. Right next to the coal shoot. Like this:
I call it my shame-ber, but it’s actually kind of charming. And this is what I see at night before I fall asleep:
[…] decided to move out (of here), because living there doesn’t make me happy, either. I need time and space to myself. […]
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[…] a year. Last year, I baked that pie at my moms’ house, where I was living in the basement, next to the coal shoot. I baked the pie by myself, because baking is one of my many coping mechanisms, and I had much to […]
[…] to form new friendships and shed old ones, move out of my Moms’ basement (the infamous “Shame-ber“) and build a life for myself, something I could hold up to the light and recognize. […]