I can’t say at this point in my life that I have had a home. I was a nomad in my parent’s house until I got my own room at the age of 14-15. This room’s furniture was 75% bits and pieces of furniture from the rest of the house. I was fine with it. It was what I needed at the time. I never did ask for much in that department.

At 20 I left my parent’s house and stayed with my brother and his family for 9 months. I couldn’t speak much about my living arrangements and how I wanted it, yet his wife gave me the gift of a furnished room for the last 4 months that I slept there.

In 2012 I moved to my sister’s house, where I have lived until today. It’s a nice place. I love the location. It’s not my own. The place talks more about my sister’s preference than my own. That’s fine. I at some point want to have a place that I can call my own that is of my design.

I want to live in a place where I can be at peace. A place where I can be myself. A place that represents me as a person. I wanted to be able to have a place that looked as badass as my co-Pastor’s man cave. A place that could reflect my energy, my passion, my preferences, my lifestyle, and my beliefs. A place that I can call home.

My father is still the owner of the first house that he lived in after he got married. I never lived in that house, because they had moved into their second house before I was born. Yet my father never sold that house. Now that house is being refurbished to my specifications.

That feels weird. I am expected to make decisions about this house having no real experience in making these kinds of decisions. I don’t know what is good and what is not. This has the implication that I might be swayed easily in favor of other people’s inputs. This makes me question those other people in my mind.

The one thing that I worry is that my mother will try to kick me out of that house because she doesn’t want me living in a place that is in her name. This is kind of a big deal because I don’t have a relationship with my mother and I really don’t want to deal with her.

I can’t deny that I have this unique opportunity to have a home that is as close to my dream as I can have it in this day and age. This brings me feelings of joy, excitement, and guilt. I feel that I can make my dream of having a place of my own to my specifications a reality. I can chose without many limitations what I want. I am thinking that moving to this new place is a good idea because it will give me a platform for my future and a place to really settle down. Yet I feel guilty because I feel that I have no busyness in living in a home that is of my design at the phase in life where I am at. I feel that I am doing wrong by all of those people that don’t have the same God given fortune that I have. I feel discomfort because I am afraid that I won’t be thankful for this privilege and I will screw the house up.


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