Welcome to the third installment of this blog. There will be many gifs. Prepare thyself.
I was trying to think of a new topic to prattle on about this morning while on the bus. Nothing overly horrible or amusing happened during the commute so I was obviously stuck on what to write about.
It was then that I remembered a Facebook post I’d put together way back in 2013 when I was just a wee baby bird, fresh out of the nest. The nest being my actual family home, not my gestational Airbnb, just to clarify. I definitely would rate said Airbnb 5 stars though. I wish I could go back but it shut down a few years ago, unfortunately. It only had one other tenant since I vacated too. They probably trashed the place though, to be honest. Closing down was likely for the best.
Either way, today’s post is going to address some of the general thoughts, feelings, observations and what have you, associated with properly moving out of home for the first time.
Picture this, if you will. I was about 19, moving to Brisbane and pants-crappingly excited to get my hands on some sweet, sweet independence.
I’d lived out of home before with my step-brother and his girlfriend at the time though so I wasn’t completely in the dark. Although, they were kind of like my dysfunctional set of slightly older parents while I was living with them so it doesn’t really count too much.
I’d moved in with them soon after I finished high school but they ended up having a baby so one of us had to vacate. It was me. Damn, selfish babies. He didn’t even give me a chance to rock-paper-scissors with him to see who would be the one to stay. Nephew number one, I love you but it’s time for you to start thinking of people other than yourself. You’re 6 years old now and you’ve still not apologised. It’s time to grow up and start taking responsibility for your actions. Thanks mate.
Anyway, I moved back home after the arrival of nephew number one. I love my family but living at home was not giving me the stimulation I needed that came with living independently. The taste of freedom I’d grown accustomed to was always hanging about in the back of mind like that one gif that makes you laugh so hard, even the slightest reminder brings it back to the forefront and has you in fits on the train while everyone tries to avoid looking in your general direction for fear of making eye contact with the insane person. You know the feeling, right? Right? No, ok. Moving on.
Having grown up and having lived most of my sheltered life in an area with no public transport, that wasn’t close to any major cities, with even the nearest McDonalds being about 40 minutes away by car I was craving a change of scenery (and now I’m craving a 24 pack of McNugs, but that’s neither here nor there).
Also, when it comes to finding work that isn’t to do with farming or carrying on the family business (of which we had none), it’s a little difficult to find something convenient that also promises career progression in a small town. One thing I tend to say about my hometown is that it’s a great place to grow up in and would be a great place to retire to, but in between, get yourself the heck out of there. It doesn’t apply to everyone but definitely suits the lifestyle I’ve found most enjoyable.
So when my partner at the time was posted to Brisbane with his Defence job, it was a nice, happy medium. I was moving out of home with him into a major city. And my mum wasn’t about to have a hypothetical aneurysm over me moving too far away (that was to come later on, sorry mum).
On the day of the move, with the wave goodbye and obligatory “beep” of the car horn as I was exiting the driveway, I felt a new sense of independence and an “oh shit, this is the start of my life as a proper, actual adult” wave of acceptance come over me. On an important side note, beeping while leaving the driveway was and still is a family tradition that I will uphold until the day I die. No exceptions. Nobody knows why it’s a thing. Nobody questions it. It just is.
I feel as though everyone kind of falls mostly in to one of the following categories in regards to living away from home (with probably a portion of the other two categories mixed in somewhere along the lines):
- The “This is a God damn breeze, why didn’t I move out of home sooner?”
- The “I’m doing ok but like, please also help me.”
- The “Unholy Mother of Lucifer, I’m not equipped to deal with this, Mum please don’t change the locks again, I want to come home right now.”
As an initial Category 2 who has now graduated into a solid Category 1, I’ve definitely chosen to share this old Facebook post in the hope of easing the doubts in some people’s minds about what to expect when moving to a new place, away from the safe confines of family. I definitely have not chosen to share this old Facebook post because I could think of no new material to share with you guys. Definitely not. Ok, maybe a little. Fine, ok. Christ. I’m lazy, I know, but whatever. It’s my party and I’ll re-use content if I want to.
Without further ado, enjoy this 5 year old Facebook post (with added gifs for extra wow):
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FB Archives, 19 May 2013.
Things I have learnt since moving out of home:
- I should not be allowed near sharp things unsupervised.
- Neighbours are handy because they tell you when you’ve left the interior light on in your car.
- Ants are horrible creatures who manage to get into your home no matter how much bug spray you slather around every crevice that leads inside.
- Child sized band aids are not a suitable replacement for normal sized band aids, no matter what colour they are or what pictures are on them.
- If you buy a $2 dust pan from ‘Bargain City’, it will be so ineffective that you have to sweep the floor all over again.
- Cat + Rug = One huge mess that never goes away because he likes to claw it.
- Cat attacks become more frequent as a unit is much more confined than an actual house. There is nowhere to hide.
- Nutella is bad and I should feel bad for how much I’ve eaten since moving.
- No matter how much I say I’m going to exercise, finishing off the entire series of Friends always seems to be much more important.
- MY MUM IS THE BEST AND SHE SHOULD TOTALLY COME AND LIVE WITH ME BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING!
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Pic of mum for reference. She is little. I love.
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It doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 67, moving out can be pretty daunting so hopefully this profound, inherent wisdom, that was formed in my 20 year old brain, probably after a horrendously excessive Nutella eating session, will help you to realise that everyone deals with some messy, weird, difficult and sometimes hilarious shit when they move out of home.
As addressed above, becoming independent is scary and involves many, many learning curves. However, if you take the time and effort to start doing things for yourself, learn how different parts of the world come together and operate, and just become socially and self aware, the payoff of feeling like a fully functional adult who can do basically anything is fucking delightful.
Honestly, as long as you can think logically, have some semblance of common sense and social etiquette about you, have an idea of how to use your money wisely, know how to use Google (most important) and are able to learn from mistakes, moving out of home will be an absolute breeze.
Also, you can stay up until 2am scrolling through the depths of Reddit, drinking Baileys and eating mozzarella cheese straight out of a family sized bag if you want to and no one will give two shits.
Catch you later,
Kates
But wait…
Before I go, I need to do a special shout out to my boyfriend who is celebrating his 27th birthday today! You fucking rock. You’re old. I love you.
Oh and if you guys would like to do some likes, shares, comments, whatever really, that wouldn’t go astray. I’m happy for people just to be reading and enjoying my bullshit though, to be honest.
*end scene*
pray4kates 
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