Posted in Single Parent

…nostalgia

Well, it is done! We are officially all moved into our new apartment. And as much as I’m over living at the previous place, I can’t help but think what significance it had for me.

Before having Ky, I wouldn’t have considered myself stable, but I was comfortable and only had myself to think about. But when I had her, I was determine to make things work–finances, getting around, etc.–despite what was actually going on. I made about $2000 monthly as a beginning teacher, paid $750 for a studio apartment near our downtown area, and about $500-$625 in daycare fees. Yea…those numbers are sad, but I made it work…

…until I couldn’t it. I literally felt like I was drowning and the more I tried to be “stable”, the more I found myself struggling. I would find relief and then be in hole again. I wanted to handle this all on my own…because that’s what I said I would do. But I couldn’t live where I was living, pay Ky’s daycare fees & bills on time, and save for a car [or anything else for that matter]. I had already made do with having WIC and Ky being on Medicaid, but that barely helped.

And then I was given three opportunities to get my head above water: stay with a friend for less than 1/2 the price I was paying in rent, a second job at a wine shop (the Lord knew what he was doing with this one!) and working summer school (can we just insert a praise break here??). It was exactly what I needed. Six months later, I found this place; a two bedroom, one bath apartment with wood floors and washer/dryer included on the 3rd floor…a new home for just Ky and I. Our place.

I stayed in two apartments before this one; both of which didn’t feel like home because I purposefully didn’t place much furniture or decorated it. I think because I was going through so much, I didn’t really consider NC or those apartments home. In my mind, if I “failed”, I could just go back to NY and live with family– I definitely would have had help and wouldn’t worry about money [as much]. But pride man….pride. I refused to go back. It was like I had something to prove. Stupid I know. But that’s the thing about pride…it just gets you in your own way.

Thank God, for this place though. We considered it home. Ky got her first “big girl” bed here, we hung pictures of us…or family/friends, Ky had her first sleepover, invited friends over to hangout…it felt like home. It had been home for almost 4 years.

Packing up, I slowly realized how “lived in” this place was. I mean I actually bought furniture for this place–which is crazy because I think about having to move those things out eventually and just the thought of it is daunting. I almost didn’t move because I was complacent in that place. Having to pack up, meant moving on….growth…change…It didn’t feel like I was ready for any of it.

I’d like to think I’m this person that is SOOOO open to change, but HA! It took me two years to actually decide that I was moving [and because COVID forced my hand; having me teach from my bedroom *insert eye roll*].

It’s bittersweet leaving a place that gave me life when I felt like I couldn’t hold on much longer. A place where Ky could look back and say she had some good memories. A place I was SUPER blessed to find during trying times. For that, I’m forever grateful that I was able to make that place a home for us.

…now to our next adventure [with an extra bathroom, sunroom, and dining area]

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*Cue The Jeffersons theme song*

-Ash

Author:

30. Single Mom. Teacher. Procrastinator. Lazy Maid. Personal Preschooler Cook. Born & Raised in NY. Existing Somewhere in NC.

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