There Comes a Time... Okay, So Maybe More Than One Time.

As most people know about me, I am a serial mover-outer (yeah, I just made that into a word-thing. Take THAT Webster!) I attempted moving after high school. That worked out SO well. After moving back home within three days of leaving, my life changed dramatically, but more on that later. I then moved, with the family, to the campground where I lived until last summer. Again, I tried the venturing out thing and moved to Murfreesboro to attend school. Sure it felt right at the time, but things were slowly going downhill and I found myself spending more time at "home" with my family than at my actual apartment where I should have been. Then, after I dropped out of school, I technically moved back in with my family, though most of my belongings remained at the apartment, with my dear roommate (worst roommate award definitely goes to me). I never ventured out. I couldn't ever be on my own. And now, at 21, I am finally a bit closer to that goal. Being independent.


Chattanooga is my home again, which is a weird thought, because I never felt like it stopped being home in the first place. But other places were just stand ins, I guess. Though I loved living in various other cities, and love the people (you know who you are), Chattanooga has always been my favorite place. Yes, I attempted living here once before, fresh out of high school. But, before the heckling of how I came home too quickly begins, you must understand where I was coming from. A shy (ha, yeah right) and completely oblivious to the real world 18-year-old with no car, no job/experience, and no prospects in this big city, when I was used to chickens trudging down the side of the road and tractors holding up traffic. Culture shock to the MAX. And I couldn't handle all the newness all at one time. Kudos to my awesome friend who stuck it out and loved it, I was always so proud of her for that. She was more brave than I could hope to be. 


But I came back and had to figure out things, or so I thought. Three years later, and I still haven't figured out much. No longer the same person I was, however similar and scared. This place, though I am from here and do have family, is big and scary. Yes, I am living with my brother and his wife, but their lifestyle is different than what I'm used to. Not in bad way. Just in an unsuspecting, unfamiliar way. However different and crazy it may be at the moment, I must live with it. Because this is it for a while. I've got to do this. I feel out of my element, and I don't even know what my element is. Finding a job is hard. Understatement of the century. But again, I have to stick it out. I thought moving would help me feel less useless to those around me, but alas, I still feel that way. Yeah, I know, I've been told to not think negatively, so I'm just gonna plaster on a smile and be cheery. I do love it here, it's an amazing city. But I'm still processing it all. The people here have been nothing but nice. They party, and as much as I always thought that was me, a party girl, as much as I liked the idea of it, or thought I liked it, I'm not that person. Socially awkward (it's true, I have a slight panic attack in crowded places), I am always unsure of how to act around people. Never feeling good enough, funny enough, interesting enough. But. For now, I will look past that and try my best at this new life because this is it. This is my life. And I gotta live it, me or someone else. Happy or sad. Happy for the most part, so no worries, loves of mine. 


I guess that's all for now, more of a rambling venting spew than a blog, but I appreciate the read nonetheless :)
I can't wait to see everyone again.

 A LOT.

And that's totes for reals.
loves <3