Not quite flying the nest

I’m just over four months away from turning thirty and I’m still living at home with my parents. Tomorrow my fiance and I are nine years together. As you know we’re saving for a mortgage and we know that renting is just dead money and we’d have no hope of saving for a deposit if we were shelling out over €1,000 per month on rent. No matter how many times people tell me that living at home at my age is normal these days due to the disaster that is the housing market, I still feel like a freeloader. I pay my parents rent, of course, but it doesn’t ease my discomfort.

Perhaps it’s society’s view on how people my age should be living, or that I’m surrounded by people my age who are buying houses, getting married and having babies. My fiance and I are on the brink of getting a basic mortgage (enough for a decent-ish house), but there may be something that will delay us which I can’t mention just yet, and I could end up extending my stay under my parents’ roof. Isn’t there a taboo surrounding people who still live with their parents?

For some reason, I look back to my ex-best friend, who is married and I imagine him laughing at me when he sees my current situation. I know this is the last thing I should be worried about but these are the thoughts running through my head these past few days. I meet trouble halfway, but I know no other way of dealing with these types of situations.


You’ll be better for it

This statement has kept me motivated these past couple of weeks when I try to avoid doing little chores, such as putting clothes away. I simply say it to myself and I get on with it. I don’t even know if I’m saying it right, but it still helps.

What it means to be in a rut

I always thought the concept of being in a rut meant you never really do anything outside of work and such, and it’s not a million miles off. I truly believed I had stepped out of my rut by going to yoga on Mondays and walking as much as I can. But unfortunately I think I’m still stuck. I looked up a definition and found the following:

a settled and monotonous routine that is hard to escape


Yoga has become a part of my routine and yet I find myself dreading it each Monday. I attribute this to a number of possibilities:

  1. My social anxiety (after all, I feel the same sense of dread when going out with friends)
  2. Being an introvert (being in a work all day, my need to be alone and decompress becomes greater in the evenings
  3. Laziness! (I’ll be honest, I hate going home from work and then going back out again, I’d rather just go straight)

But could this be part of the rut I thought I’d escaped? I still can’t motivate myself to do certain tasks (updating my blog being one of them). How much harder do I need to push to escape once and for all?