I really did not want to have to move back home into my parent’s house. I felt a little embarrassed to be honest. I didn’t tell a soul that we were coming back. Not my friends and not even my siblings. Only my parents because, well duh, we were going to be roomies.
I didn’t want it to be real. I didn’t want to accept or let it be known that we had failed. It took me awhile to be okay with it. And to realize that things aren’t going to go as planned in life.
I talk about this a lot, but this whole experience really has just given me an understanding of how life actually is. And you know, maybe that’s just growing up, I don’t know. But I now know its okay. And this is just a part of my story that I’ll hopefully look back on and laugh about my ignorance in the future.
Moving back home was a trek. An expensive trek. Since we had blown through our savings, planning it was already daunting.
First off we needed a trailer to get our belongings across the country. Because of the fires in California, everyone needed a trailer. A lot of people who had lost their homes in the devastation needed to relocate as well. So, of course, being that we live in capitalist America, the price of this trailer was jacked up to the max.
Cue phone calls to mom! My boyfriend’s mom really helped us out a lot on getting us back home. I still think about how lucky we were to have had her support. I saw first hand how easy it is to hit rock bottom. I’m not saying that Ian and I were near that, but I saw how easily it could happen. I saw how quickly dreams could be crushed.
We finally got the trailer. We needed to book our hotels. We made sure to look up whether the hotels were dog friendly or not. Meaning that we checked if they allowed service animals or not.
My dog is registered as an emotional support dog, and, legally, he is allowed to accompany me to hotels (and housing for that matter) without me having to pay a deposit. Usually Ian and I just make sure the hotel we are staying at allows service animals and we just sneak Mia, my boyfriend’s dog, inside. I know – gasp – but we are young and broke what do you want from us?
So again, with the help of Ian’s mother we booked our hotels and planned out our road trip. I was not thrilled, if you have read my previous posts you know how much fun the road trip getting to Cali was, and how awesome I thought it was…
We packed up everything over the span of a couple days. Paid to break our lease. Canceled all our bills. And headed home like sad puppy dogs with our heads down and tails between our legs.