I haven't lived in an apartment since I was in my 20's and I admit, I kind-of thought I outgrew it. My future held large homes with yards that needed maintenance and neighbors taking their kids to soccer practice- not a downstairs neighbor screaming at an imaginary enemy or a broken radiator. I thought I'd moved past the cheap Ikea dresser that takes hours to put together (not to mention a lot of cursing.) I was beyond eating left over pizza for days because I didn't have any money left to do legitimate grocery shopping until my next paycheck. I was grown-up, secure, home.
And yet, here I am- broke once again, asking my friends to help me schlep all of my belongings up old, creaky stairs and trying to remind myself that i'm strong enough to face it all again. I've been saying throughout this entire process that this is the hardest thing I've ever done and facing reality dead-on hasn't done anything other than make that statement more true.
But what I try to remind myself of, what i'm trying to believe in every cell, every membrane, is that this is the testing ground of the soul. This is the make or break time that defines my character. This is the lesson that stands out above all others, and which serves me more than any of the others. This is the thing that I can talk about on the other side of saying "if I could get through that, I can get through anything."
I am made of tougher stuff than what I am facing down right now. This will not break me- this is how i will break through.