Don't Move in With Your Best Friend (Believe Me on This One.)

All the advice and warnings that say you shouldn't move in with your best friend?

Yeah, you should listen to them.

You are not the exception, your friendship is not stronger than all the others, you are not going to stay best friends, and things ARE going to change.

I wish someone had drilled this into my head about four months ago.

My first apartment, with my best friend, how could life get any better?  We were both so excited about it.  We never fight, we like the same things, and we usually agree on most things.  We were sure that living together would be great; we weren't like all those petty girls we'd heard about moving in together and then growing to hate each other.

The first month or so was great, after we got over the fear of pooping around each other (I don't think she was ever fully comfortable when I was around).  We had late night chats, breakfast dates, and teamwork-cleaned the kitchen after having all our friends over.  Life was fun.

Little by little though, things changed.  Big time.  We hung out less frequently, and when we did it seemed like more of an obligation than true friendship time.  The little quirks about each other we had first ignored now seemed like huge annoyances.  Grudges built up like crazy.  Not to mention the fact that housework was no longer a "teamwork" thing..it was more like I was playing housewife.  Which is even less fun when winter comes and that job includes clearing a driveway for both of our cars.

To be fair, I'm sure I have terrible habits, and I know at times I'm not the best possible roommate.  But I do what I can, and I really don't think I'm that hard to live with.

Eventually I came to a breaking point, and knew I needed to move out.  Almost as soon as I brought it up to my roommate, she was gone.  Vanished.  All her shit, gone.  And all I could wonder was, am I that terrible to live with?

Actually, I'm still wondering it.  This is a right-now event in my life, and I feel awful about it.  I don't know what to expect, friendship-wise.  I have enough things to worry about, between normal life and now trying to find a new apartment, but on top of that I'm pretty sure I lost my best friend.

I don't have a wide array of friends as it is, so losing any of them would be pretty hard.  But this was my very best friend, the one I could always count on when I needed a best friend cuppa tea, or just a chat, or even a good silly laugh.  I don't know if any of that will be happening anymore.  It feels like it won't.  It feels like a breakup.

In the future, I'll be living alone or with people I barely know.  (Until I'm eventually in love and stuff, but that's a whole nother issue.)  There's too much at risk when you live with your best friend.  I wish I had believed all the people who warned me.

Dear Santa, Love Grownup Emma

Dear Santa:

A whole year since I’ve written, and I hardly feel like the same girl. I don’t know where I stand with regards to naughty vs. nice, but I hope you’re willing to make a few oversights. I’ve tried to be nice, Santa, but growing up is hard. And I truly believe karma has already punished me for most of the naughty things I’ve done.

On the off chance that I am on the nice list, I have a few requests. The childish part of me wants to ask for lovely material things. But as I learned on my birthday (when my only gift was a microwave oven), holidays just aren’t as frivolous when you’re an adult.

Santa, my first wish is for my parents to accept that I need my independence. I know they miss me, and the feeling is mutual sometimes, but there are only so many times I can tell them “No, I’m not moving back in with you,” without getting annoyed. I love my parents; they’re two of my closest friends, honestly, but we only have that relationship because of the space that’s come with me moving out. If I lived with them, the arguments would start back up, and no one would be happy. Please, just let them understand this.

For my second request, I’ll give you options: good health, or health insurance. Santa, I know I’m terribly blessed to have a steady source of income from a job I enjoy. But the fact that it doesn’t provide me with health insurance, and independent coverage is so expensive, really blows. Right now I’m good; I can handle the cost of my birth control prescription. But please, please, don’t bring any new medical needs to me this year.

I’d like to pretend this one’s a selfless Christmas wish, but in the long run it benefits me as well. But I’d like to ask for a few presents on behalf of the family that lives above me. Books, puzzles, a model train set; any kind of quiet activities. They’re lovely people, but good lord, are they noisy. Please can you find them a hobby that doesn’t involve crashing around furniture and teaching their pet elephants to dance?

Finally, I’d like a gift set of sorts. Patience, empathy, love, and trust; I could do well to restock my supplies of each. I try to be a good person, but some days I feel my stores of patience running low. Give me this little boost, and I’ll do my best to make it last the whole year, and beyond. It’s the gift that keeps on going.

So, Santa, if you haven’t written me off as naughty, and torn my letter into shreds, this is my Grownup Christmas List.  I know it’s asking a lot, but I’ll take whatever you can give me. I’ll work harder on being nice next year.

Thanks; safe travels!

-emma

nostalgia

its amazing, the stealth with which nostalgia sneaks up and attacks.

it gives something as innocent as a song, or a photo, or even just the mention of a name the power to swoop in and steal your happy, carefree contentment.

nothing is ever as good as it used to be.
you miss the boy that treated you like crap until he left you completely.
you miss the friends that drifted in and out of your life at their convenience.
you miss the crumby minimum-wage job, and living with your parents, and struggling through community college.

a single reminder of that era of your life, and there goes your saturday night.
now youre in for the night, reminiscing and wishing for the past
looking through every photo, reading every journal entry, lingering in every memory.
futile, immature wishes that you could go back, change this, enjoy that a bit more.
why couldn’t life have stayed so lovely?

i’ve spent minutes, hours, days being sad about how things used to be, and how much they’ve changed.
everything seemed so good back then, what happened? 

of course, no one clings to the bad memories.
looking back it’s all peachy keen.

maybe i should think about that, next time a stray photo triggers thoughts of “better times”.
maybe they weren’t better times, maybe i was just as sad then as i am now.
maybe im just as happy now as i was then, when things were “so much better”. 

yeah, maybe things were great two years ago, but that was two years ago.
enjoy the great things as they come, because they happen everyday, and if you don’t enjoy them now you never will.
just try to be happy with your now, whatever that is.