An ode to my first home.

Humble beginnings, man I tell ya.

For me, moving into my first "home" or at least my first apartment was a big step. I've spent my entire life surrounded by people at basically all parts of my life and now, for a little over a year, I've been alone.

This weekend was one of the most stressful and emotional times I've experienced while living here. Who knew being alone could be so painful and lonely? Not me.

I've lived the majority of my life moving around, making new friends, and for some reason, I thought this move would be just like all the rest, a standard, pick up and go. I understood at my core that I wouldn't know anyone in the area, that it would basically be college all over again, but this was different than college all over again, because in college we're all alone, we're all starting somewhere new and while some of us came in with friends, many of us didn't know that many and we were all wide open for new people to invade our most private and precious spaces.

It's different now.

This home will be one of the hardest things to leave once it's time to go. Sure, it's a tiny one bedroom apartment, but it's my first place where I had to struggle with some inconvenient truths, like the fact that there is a whole lot of month when you're in your first job. That sometimes, the best thing you can do is sit on a couch and cry. That painting can be very therapeutic…and so can cooking when it comes out right.

In this apartment, I got a full grasp of the kindness of others. At least 2/3 of the things that are in my apartment were given to me and while the walls may be bare, the love that fills this place does so much more. In this apartment, I've had people come, pour out their hearts and grow close to one another, it's here that I truly learned compassion, it's here that I truly experienced transparency.

It was here that I cried out to God, screamed about life, fought with Him about what I believed and why I was here. Tried to uncover what I truly cared about and what I thought was right. It was here that He met me and taught me so much more about love and acceptance, mercy and faith. It was here that I recommitted, here that I sat and read my Bible and journaled. It was here that I changed.

This small tender space has seen me grow in ways that others couldn't. It's watched me learn how to organize my bills, clean, play guitar, and learn to live without…and to be content in that.

Home sweet home.

In my short 23 years of life, I've been unsure of many things. I wasn't positive that I would be able to do this, but I knew that I didn't have a choice and that when it came down to it, I would have to buck up and face the situations given to me. Moving to Panama City Beach with a laptop, a suitcase full of clothes, and an air mattress was one of the boldest moves of my life. It had one guarantee: an opportunity to follow my dream, but nothing else. It did not promise me friends that would be like family, it didn't promise me happiness, it didn't promise me fulfillment, it promised a chance…so I took it.

And for that Panama City Beach will always have a piece of my heart.