7 Unexpected Realizations You’ll Have When You Move Back Home


Guys, I did it. I jumped off the safety of the “full-time but underemployed” bridge into the tumultuous, dark waters below. Well, let’s be honest–they’re more like aggressive eddys, because being only a year out of school kind of ensures that quitting does not result in catastrophic, life-destroying goings on. Phew. After realizing there was neither upward mobility nor additional skills to gain, I peaced out to get going in the right direction. In the intermediary, I’m home with my parents for two weeks. Since I’ve returned, I’ve come across some unexpected realizations: some good and some not so much.

Shopping is so much better.
Holy hell, I feel like the richest motherfucker around. Having access to more than just boutiques and small, family-owned grocery stores is the manifestation of God on Earth, I swear. You can actually buy more than 20 pounds of goods without risking a hernia on your commute home! It’s also (not surprisingly) significantly cheaper, which is just a win-win all around. Let’s just say the strip on my debit card could be used like a flint. (As flint? Boy Scouts, please advise.)

Dogs do really need the space.
Once you go back to green grass with young pups running through it, you realize there is nothing sadder than a dog taking a dump on the sidewalk. Speaking of green grass…

Nothing beats green space. Nothing.
I spent the first two days weeding my mom’s gardens. I hate weeding more than accidentally poking myself in the eye or long division. I am also irrationally afraid of spiders, yet still, there I was, ass in the air, head to the ground, yanking out weeds. Or maybe even flowers. It’s unclear. The point is, I just needed to be outside, soaking up all that green space I had without even a chance of bumping into someone. You don’t have to walk to some park and share it with 5,000 other people. Huzzah!

Feeling a little aimless is okay.
It’s quite a humbling experience going from “what you’re supposed to do” to somewhere in between. Hopefully, you wouldn’t just up and quit with no idea of the next step, but even if you do, soak it up. There (presumably) isn’t a spouse or offspring depending on you, and you have a shred of leeway at this point in your life. But be warned–returning home, even with a plan, can often disorient you. The whole not going back to school thing is still throwing me off, even a year later.

The white picket fence doesn’t look so bad.
As someone whose aspirations don’t get close to stopping at a gaggle of children and exquisite baking skills, I was pretty shocked when my gut reactions started opening my eyes to the perks of the ‘burbs. When I drove past a dad waiting for his daughter walking home from the school bus, I just thought, “how cute”–and then “ew,” but that’s beside the point. Seriously, the home and land are starting to appeal to me. Maybe it’s just because New York City crushes any hope you have of owning your own home, or maybe it’s my hormones controlling me from the inside out. No one knows, but if you didn’t get smacked one too many times as a kid and had some semblance of fun growing up, chances are you’ll look at your parents’ home with a twang of jealousy. Ha, too bad we’ll never be able to afford houses!

Mom and Dad have really moved on.
Be warned, because it’s a little bit alarming when you come home and Ma and Pop aren’t waiting on you hand and foot. “But, Mom, I graduated in only four years, and from, like, a good school with a moderately decent GPA. WORSHIP ME!” Yeah, no, that shit doesn’t work anymore. They love not having your dirty laundry all over their fucking house. They also don’t miss you eating them out of house and home. For a mom who has always said I was beautiful and my body was beyond fine, the lady sure keeps VERY little food in the house. I’m starting to get suspicious those assurances no longer apply.

Perks, perks, perks. If you’re like, “But, Samsonite, I have a dishwasher in my apartment, a washing machine, and a car with a free parking spot!” then you live in some bumfuck “city,” you’re rich (get off this site) or you’re lying. Regardless of which aforementioned category you fall into, GTFO. Having a washing machine that doesn’t require me to inject 28 quarters in it first thrills me more than the “Game of Thrones” theme song. The dishwasher? Shit, I had no idea I didn’t actually have to fear salmonella! Minus the whole gas prices thing, a car is the quickest and least sweaty commute I’ve had in over a year. Yippee!

You might prefer a colonoscopy over moving back home with your folks, but if it’s the right move and it’s only temporary, do it. Do it and enjoy it.

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Mary Swanson

Both a bitter and optimistic 24-year-old entry-level underachiever with 2-4 friends and 0 talents. Washed up is an understatement. I prefer almost all my food luke-warm, what does that say about me?

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