Giving Myself Leave
Living in apartments and having roommates for a good deal of my adult life got me settled into a certain rut: I never really went out of my way to make anywhere I live feel "homey", because I always thought of the current living situation as impermanent. Drama was inevitable, or I would eventually wear out my welcome, and off I go, schlepping the boxes I haven't unpacked in two or three years. What was the point, right?
Nowadays, I have my own place. A small, 1 bedroom apartment in a complex that was built in the 60s. I still have boxes that are packed, even after living here almost four years. It's only recently that I have told myself 'It's okay to trust the moment. It's okay to give yourself some stability and permanence.' Ever since the covid lockdown, I had never known such uncertainty. Such impermanence. Recently, I did a small thing by ordering me a humorous welcome mat. It's styled to look like a cellar door you'd find in a medieval keep, complete with wood grain details. It reads: "Definitely Not a Trap Door". I've ordered one for just inside the front door as well, and I'm going to get a cushioned bench to put outside under my kitchen window, so I have a place to sit and enjoy my coffee on my days off.
Little by little, I am giving myself leave to make my life and home a bit more comfortable.
And this is a good thing.