This Isn't How It Was Supposed to Go

When I decided to move to Texas to live with my sister, I pictured a clean slate. A new chapter. After weeks of planning, coordinating, and mentally preparing, I thought we'd roll into to our new place, tired but excited, ready to turn an empty house into a home.

I imagined comfort of unpacking my things, making coffee in the kitchen, maybe collapsing onto the couch at the end of the first day and thinking, Okay, this is it. We're really here.

But that's not what happened.

Instead, we're staying at my sister's friend's place-something I'm deeply thankful for, but not what I envisioned at all. The house we were supposed to move into has been put on pause because of one unexpected issue. One thing standing in the way. And it's been enough to throw everything off course.

It's Hard to explain how unsettling it is to feel like you're in a limbo. Your life packed in boxes. No space that truly feels yours. No clear timeline, no certainty, just waiting. And it's not just physical discomfort-it's the mental toll of feeling unrooted, like you're living someone else's life while your own is stuck behind a locked door.

I didn't expect to feel this tired. This frustrated. This defeated some days. I miss normal. I miss waking up and knowing what comes next. I miss the version of this move I had in my head-the one where things fell into place and I felt proud, not lost.

But in the midst of it all, something amazing happened.

I got the job.

The one I've been interviewing for, crossing my fingers for, hoping would be the thing to make this whole transition feel worth it-it happened. I got the call, and I felt the kind of relief I haven't felt in weeks. A sense of finally. Finally, something is moving forward. Finally, something to hold onto.

I cried. Not out of shock or even pure happiness, but because I needed a reminder that not everything is broken. That good things are still finding their way to me, even when so much feels uncertain.

So no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. It's not comfortable. It's not ideal. But I'm still here. I'm still trying. And I'm beginning to believe that sometimes the most meaningful beginnings come from the most unexpected places.

This isn't the version of the story i thought I'd be telling-but-maybe it's the one that needed to be lived.

And maybe, when it all finally comes together, it'll be even more beautiful because of how hard the start was.