For several months now I have been ruminating over moving back in with my parents. This has been one of those “mylifehascompletelychangedandnowIneedtofindadirection” things. This started when I was attempting to brainstorm with friends what amazing opportunity I should pursue. Buy a boat, move to another country, move across the country, etc. All of the things that “older” people tell me they would have/should have done, if they knew then what they know now. You know, that conversation that goes something like this: “You’re free now. You just got out of a shitty relationship and there is nothing to hold you back from doing what you want! If I were you, I would just travel and do lots of crazy stuff. “And then they ask “What’s stopping you?” And I say “Well, I guess I have these bills to pay, and my student loans you know.” And then I start to think about how I had done all of things that society told me I was supposed to do i.e. go to college, get married, go to graduate school, get a nice paying job, think about having some babies, buy a newer car, decorate a beautiful home. Check, Check, Check. And now I’ve done those things, but now I look at where I am and I’m still starved for adventure, love, and freedom.
“What would you do if you won a billion dollars?”
“I’d pay off my debt and loans, travel, and buy a place in Europe, and make art.”
“What would you do if you won a million dollars?”
“I’d pay off my debt and loans, and travel to Europe, and make art for a couple months.”
“What would you do if you won 10,000 dollars?”
“I’d pay off my debt, and buy some Starbucks.”
And so I am faced with the question of moving in with my parents, rent free. If I did, I could pay off all of my debt in 3 years, 2 months, and 9 days (or 38.2 months, or 166.5 weeks, or 1,165.5 days). I would be 31 years old.
There’s only one thing to do.
Obviously go to New York for a week and then decide.