I received an email yesterday that my WordPress plan had been renewed – it’s been a whole year! It figures that, on the anniversary of the opening of my blog, yesterday was also the first time I’ve forgotten to post on a Wednesday. I’ve been running around like a madwoman – on Tuesday I moved out of my apartment from this past school year and into my apartment on campus for the summer, while also moving some of my winter stuff to store in my boyfriend’s apartment. Yesterday, I spent 7 hours in RSA training to prepare for the summer. Seems like I’ve got new everything: new apartment, new jobs, new plans, and a new beginning. We went to see an off campus apartment and put down a deposit for the upcoming year – things are happening! Yup, it’s pretty confusing. Let’s just say that we are renting an apartment starting this summer through next summer, but I’m working as a Resident Success Assistant, which means I have to live in the dorms on campus. My boyfriend’s apartment is currently being used for storage for my roommate and I. Basically, by August, I’ll literally have moved in and out of four apartments.

On the way back up here on Tuesday morning, I was telling my mom how much I really do like moving. I think one of the really cool things about college is being able to live in a few different places throughout your four years. Different settings with different people has given me more life experience than I ever would’ve thought. (A few hours later, as my mom, my boyfriend, and I proceeded to move basically all of my belongings in and out of two apartments, I took back the “I love moving” part). But there is something to be said for starting over. Each year has had different meaning for me. Every challenge, every change, and every day felt different. Every day, I felt different. Deciding to stay here for the summer was a decision that I made because I knew it would bring me growth and independence, as opposed to being stuck up in my house without the ability to drive.

When I was younger, I had this tiny room (tiny to me now, but reasonably sized for a little kid). When my sister was moved into an apartment of her own, my mom decided I could take her room. I suddenly had this giant room with a queen bed as a 13 year old. It was amazing. It didn’t take long for me to have the urge to change my furniture around. My mom thought I was crazy, but I needed change. Every six months, I moved my furniture around in various ways all over my room. My mom always says she’d hear me from downstairs every so often and know I was moving my furniture around again.

I’ve always been a creature of habit. When I’m upset about something, a lot of the time I tend to stay upset. I get set in my ways and I sit in the same place and do the same thing that I do every night. It was always refreshing to me to change the direction of my bed or location of my desk to give me a different perspective. Of course, it’s only a change in physical perspective, but to me it means more than that.

This past winter, I found myself in the same situation. After my third seizure, I went out of my mind. I found myself stuck in the same place where everything happened, and my first instinct was to move my furniture around. I had a small room, and the new arrangements didn’t even really make sense, but they fit and I needed change, so it was what it was. Somehow, I think a little part of it helped me.

Moving in here two days ago brought me peace. This apartment is a new place. A new room. I think that little changes in lifestyle, meeting new people, and an opportunity to spend more time at the best college is going to be a fantastic thing for me.

(By the way – the featured photo is one a took of the quad on our campus, featuring our breathtaking chapel).

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