Transitioning is Hard

Transition times are hard.

Pretty much all of the hard experiences in my life have happened during transitional times.

And right now, I’m going through a lot of transitions at once. I’m transitioning from living at home to living with other girls my age. I’m transitioning from being a full-time working adult to being a full-time working student. I transitioning into starting college. I’m transitioning into news areas at work. I’m transitioning in a lot of areas of life. And while none of the areas are upsetting or unhappy, they are making me grow. And growth is always uncomfortable.

This week I moved out of my mothers house, my home, in order to move into “campus housing”. And while I’ve only gone about twenty minutes away, It’s still been a change that needs some getting used to.

I told my room mate last night that it felt like summer camp. I felt like I was just gone for a couple days or weeks and eventually I’d walk back through the garage door of the big house on Orchard drive, drop my suitcase, and say “Mama, I’m back!” while my little brother chivalrously offered to carry my bag up to my room for me.

Having such a vivid picture in my head of what should happen, made me realize that I had been away from my mother’s house a lot in the time I lived there. I had taken too many trips, if we had a return retrial down pat. And you would think that that realization would make me feel more comfortable about moving out, and in some ways it did, because I felt like I would be okay with sleeping in a place that is not my typical bed. But, in other ways, it also made me feel almost guilty, like I didn’t spend enough of my last year at home actually at home.

And it’s a little bit funny when you think about it, because when my big sister was the same age that I am now, she moved out for school. Left my mothers house to live close to her secondary education of choice, and while she and I have chosen very different paths in a lot of ways, it’s funny how eerily similar this one age of both our lives has been.

She moved out of my mom’s house at nineteen, to go to a Masters Commission program in New Jersey. I cried like a baby, when she left, because her leaving meant that it was time for me to grow up, and be an adult, which was some that I was not ready for. My sister did a lot of helping out when it came to us younger kids. She cooked a lot of dinners, did a lot of laundry, and played the peacekeeper in a lot of arguments. And, in my fifteen year old mind, if she wasn’t around to do all these things it would fall to my shoulders, as the next oldest girl in the family. In the first year of her being gone, she was so busy with her school work and Masters work, that we almost never had time to talk on the phone, or Skype each other.

I moved out of my mom’s house at nineteen, to go to a bible college in Lafayette, Indiana. My little brother told me on the drive to where I am now living, that he wasn’t ready for me to move out, because it meant that he was the next one who had to grow up. My little brother is in his senior year of high school. He drives himself places, he plans his own schedule, he makes his own money, but when it came time for me to move out he was hit with the same feelings that I had at fifteen when our sister moved. I’ve only been living in my new home for about 6 days now, but I’ve already missed some minor, but significant, things in my little brothers life. The Biggest one being that he drove himself to school for the first time this week, and while that is something that I knew would be happening eventually, it happened a whole lot quicker than I thought it would.
I’m entering the days of my life, where I can’t get through a single hour without the strength of Jesus.

Only one of my six classes has started, and I’m already feeling as if I don’t have enough to give.

My friends and family have not been getting the attention they deserve from me, in fact they been having to put up with me being a brat.

My job has been through a pretty hardcore transition lately.

My car is acting up, and I don’t know if I have the time or money to get it fixed.

I am already sick.

But, despite it all. In spite of all the things that should make me want to run and hide, I don’t.

I don’t feel overwhelmed.

I don’t feel overworked.

I don’t feel stretched thin.

I don’t want to curl up in a ball and cry.

I don’t want to hide under the kitchen table until all is calm.

I don’t feel anxious or stressed out.

In fact, I feel like I am right where God has called me.

I feel like I have been equipped for this time and this workload.

I feel like I have the energy and strength to move mountains, I might need coffee first, but I could do it!
The very first assignment I had in my very first class was a “Pre-Course Evaluation”. Basically the instructors wanted to know where I stand at the start of the semester and then at the end of the semester, when I take my final, the two tests can be compared to show how much I’ve grown and If I’m still of the same mindset that I was in at the start.

I’m going to use the blog post as a sort of “Pre-Course Evaluation”. I’m writing this now, with all the feelings and emotions I have towards my schooling this year, and at the end of the semester, I’ll compare my feelings then to this post.

I’m really hoping that the results don’t embarrass me, but even if they do, I believe that it will be for good in the long-run.

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