Empty Rooms

Well, here it is. The new {tiny} apartment. Seven hundred and twenty-five square feet. I honestly don't know how I'm going to get my whole life in there.

In the above photo I'm standing against one wall. To my right is the front door. To the left are two doorways. The one you can see is the kitchen. The other one, closer to me that you can't see, is the hallway to the rest of the apartment.


Here's the kitchen.
Here's the hallway. Closet to the right, bathroom to the left, one bedroom straight ahead. The other bedroom is to the right of the one you can see into.
Bathroom.

The balcony off the master bedroom.
I keep thinking about all the stuff I have. Stuff I haven't thought about in five months, but now I'm thinking about. There is A LOT of stuff in storage, and a lot of it is stuff I'll want to keep. Clothes for the boys to grow into, holiday decorations, bikes. I'm not concerned about all my knick-knacks, kitchen stuff, etc. That stuff I'll unpack and use or unpack and then pack back up and get rid of. But the stuff I'll need to store for those few times I'll need it? I'm afraid I just won't have the room. That's what's worrying me right now.

But if this starting over in life has taught me one thing, it's this: one step at a time. Try not to look too far ahead. You can't. Just take things as they come and don't stress about the future. It will work itself out eventually.

I had an acquaintance once that kept saying, "Things will work out." And then one time he clarified, "You know, I don't keep telling you that just because it's true. I keep saying it so that eventually you can say it to yourself."

He was right. It took five months. It meant moving back in with my parents for over half a year. It took working menial jobs that I hated for menial pay, each time quitting when something better came along. It meant, in faith, putting a deposit down on an apartment that I didn't know how I was going to pay for.

But now I'm moving into that apartment, and in the school district where I want my boys to go to school. I've gotten a teaching job, so even though things are tight, I can survive on what I'm making. I've gotten hooked into two amazing communities - my work and climbing communities - and am making some good friends through them. Things in my life are very, very bright. So now I just need to remember that on this next step of the journey.

The apartment may be small, but there are places that are tinier. Just this morning I read an article about a woman living in 400 square feet.

The apartment may be small, but that will force me to be more creative, more organized, and more selective.

The apartment may be small, but it's just a box for my stuff anyway. And I want to live outside the box. If all I need is a place to sleep, cook, and wash, well, then I'm set. Who cares if it doesn't hold everything? Maybe that means I have too much *stuff.* Maybe it's time to purge. Maybe it's time to free myself. Not from the stuff itself, but from the desire to hold on to all the stuff.

Yeah. It sounds nice and poetic and idealistic. Reality may be a little more brutal.

I'll keep you posted.