In the summer of 2010, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life. I was 23, and finally moving out of my parents’ house. Although we had a great relationship, I felt like it was time for me to spread my wings and fly. It was a perfect day in July, and I was overly excited to be making this huge step in exerting my independence. As the baby of five siblings, making a decision and having independence was not something that came easily or naturally. I was used to being taken care of, but I met a guy, who I was certain could and would take care of me and I thought for sure a trial of cohabitating would move us in the direction of wedding bells.
After 3 shorts months of living together, I quickly found myself regretting the decision to move out of my parents’ house. It was October and I remember calling my sister and crying about how miserable I was. I felt unloved, unappreciated, and lonely. I often called her to complain about my situation, reporting how I felt stuck and obligated to stay because of our financial situation. Though I was unhappy, I knew that without my half of the rent my boyfriend wouldn’t be able to maintain the apartment. And not only that, I wanted things to improve. I just didn’t know how to fix it. The more I complained to my boyfriend about his absence, lack of motivation, and my feelings of insecurity, the more distant we became. I wanted what most girls want, a loving partner, 2.5 children, and a house with a white picket fence… so why did that seem so impossible to obtain?
