Now let's get things straight. I love my family. Very much. And they know that. I'm just having a problem with this "displaced" thing. I like being able to go "home." Well, at this point, why go "home?" I have no room. Technically there is a room, but it's empty. And with the hours my employers keep, there's no way to go "home." Which, mind you, will only be "home" until July 4th. So yes, I'm whining about not having a room or a place to call home and I'm 22 years old. Bring on the criticism, I'm not ashamed.
I thought I was getting better with change. And honestly, I think I am. But I have my moments when the world feels like it's crashing down piece by piece and everything I've sacrificed for and built up the last 10 years is crumbling to dust at my feet.
Now, to put things in perspective: I am healthy, cared for, and have a shelter in which to live. I'm not terminally ill, nor are any of my family members. My mom has an amazing future to look forward to and my brother embarks on the beginning of his dream in less than 2 weeks. I couldn't be more proud of him. Period. I have a family that LOVES me no matter what I decide to do in my future. And, I have shoes, pretty ones (if you know me, you know this IS important.) So what the hell am I complaining about???
Good question.
The answer? Not so simple.
My solution: reminding myself what I DO have each and every morning when I get up, and each night when I go to bed. Reminding myself how blessed I am to have such an amazing support group, not only for me, but for all my family members. What a great group of people I have around me! (Bieberle's and Musil's included...and all you that are family to me, just not by blood...details, details)
Plus, I'm out here by Dad all summer. Even though I know he's with me all the time, I still somehow feel closer to him being out here, which I love.
Life really isn't all that bad. Moments can just seem like it.
Love you. Miss you. Always.
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