18 months after I gave up my own studio unit and moved in with my big sister, I’m back to being independent again. By independent, I mean paying my own rent, utilities, groceries and looking for my own plumber when the need arises.
Lyndon and I moved to an apartment a couple of blocks away from my sister’s place in Pasig. It’s like creating another beginning, a fresh start, rebuilding my own niche and crossing my fingers that everything will be on the up and up from hereon. A leap of faith, I would like to call it, because while the first time I moved out of the house was a result of a harried and impulsive decision, this time I am planning each step of the way. I intend to make good on this choice and make sure that I will be in full control of my life this time.
I’m enjoying every minute of this. From re-painting the cheap furniture I bought from a flea market, to choosing the color for my curtains, to making sure that everything is in its place, I’m relishing every moment.
But I know it will not be a bed of roses all the way. I expect it will be difficult adjusting, paying the bills and taking responsibility for everything.
At 33, I’m learning to be a grown up (again).
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