A life-stage missed

30 Sep

I am mourning the loss of a life stage missed.

I never lived out of home by myself or with roommates. I really wanted to but was too scared of disappointing my parents (again) so I stayed home during my first two years of university and even after I scored my first full-time job.

I blame my Italian upbringing. I blame the fact that my first full-time job required me to wake up at 3.30am…I was in a weakened state.

It’s not that I particularly enjoyed living at home. I didn’t. It had its moments. I was just too scared and too tired to make the move. I had fought with my parents enough since my high school days about my choice of extra-curricular activities (debating and Toastmasters), my choice of university degree (Communications) and my choice of career (radio).

I always thought I’d move for my next job. Radio announcers usually job-hop around the country and I thought if I moved out of home for work they might just let me do it without the usual guilt-trip. I mean, honestly, moving out of home was tantamount to committing some heinous crime. Birds PUSH their babies out of the nest because they instinctually know that if their babies don’t learn to fend for themselves, they’ll die.

So as I patiently waited for an amazing inter-state job offer I met the man who would become my husband. My plan was thwarted and future job offers were rejected from within my love-bubble.

I went from wanting to move out of home to wanting to live with him. Everything was fun…grocery shopping, paying bills…

My move from my family home to living with the man who would be my husband (yes I lived with him before we were married – gasp!) wasn’t without pain. It started with the occasional sleepover and soon I was there more than I was at home. My parents chose to ignore what was going on and my assorted excuses for not sleeping at home were met with pursed lips and silences.

Eventually I sat them both down and explained that their sensible and gainfully employed daughter was choosing to move in with the man she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. It was hard, there were tears but I did it.

And now I have woken up fourteen years later and I am so sad that I never lived out of home. I’ve never had a roomie!

This is probably why I am unnaturally attached to Big Brother and always have been. I love any movie where people move house and set things up whenever they want them to be. I love visiting friends who live out of home and I am fascinated by their struggles with roommates like splitting bills and recorded shows being accidentally (or deliberately) erased. Being at work is sort of like living with roomies because we have a communal fridge and I love shaking my head in mock frustration when someone has helped themselves to my Cruskits.

In my fantasy home-that-never-was there would be pretty toilet paper, vibrant rugs, no junk food to tempt me, and no need to hide my special shower gel and expensive shampoo. I could walk through the place naked. I wouldn’t have to watch any TV show I didn’t like. I would be friends with my hunky neighbour. I could shop with a basket – not a trolley.

I missed a life-stage, I really did. I wish I’d lived out of home before getting married.

My baby birds will be affectionately pushed out of their feathered nest (in ten years time when they are of age). They’ll thank me later.

 

2 Responses to “A life-stage missed”

  1. anonymouse September 30, 2012 at 12:26 pm #

    No need to push them out..this is your story not theirs x

    Like

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