Exactly one year ago, I was living in a basement . . . someone else's basement. Having moved across the country once & across that city yet again, I was in a job I loathed, working for a boss I who belittled me. I was depressed . . . more depressed than I've ever been. Technically it was "home" - meaning it's where I grew up. But nothing felt like home, except the love of my parents. I lost dear, dear friends. I lost my community. I lost my time at home with my kiddo. I lost my desire to wake up in the morning.
Fast forward a year.
Having moved for the third time in less than 10 months, we live in a beautiful apartment with great neighbors. Dan is happily settled into his career. Mahalia is enjoying Kindergarten at our neighborhood public school. And me . . . I've started new friendships. I've got a job that fits me amazingly well with a boss who truly appreciates what I bring to the table. I love waking up every morning & can't wait for each day to start. I am no longer depressed. I finally feel like I'm home. My heart is grateful.
In some ways, nothing is similar to last year - barely even a resemblance. And yet I'm entirely the same me . . . just happier . . . and a fab new haircut.