I sit typing this in my bed I slept in for half my life, with a walls decorated from high school paintings and pictures. My comfier bed is at school, my updated paintings that I am actually proud of are hung in my school apartment — I'm left confused and to be honest, with a sore back from not having my thick mattress pads.
I feel like a divorced child of the State of Pennsylvania. I am always leaving articles of clothing and items that I want at my childhood home near Philadelphia, or vice versa back at my college apartment.
But in this messy divorce, and I mean real messy, we'll get to that later, I choose my school home. And I think you can understand how that is hard for my mom to take in.
The Coronavirus epidemic, and my resulting quarantine back in my childhood home, has put me in a funk I haven't seen since high school. I'm sure if you are a college student, or have a college student of your own there is some relatability with accepting when a childhood home isn't meant for the child anymore.
This happens every time I take a drive alone on the roads near my house. Where I once drove every day, I now feel like a stranger. I picture myself in some nostalgic 2014 romantic comedy with alt-rock music blaring as I ponder where I belong.
I'm a person who loves a schedule. A planner advocate and a mental notetaker, my daily routine at school was set in stone and I was thriving, for a period time. Once I felt completely confident with my spot at school, I was sent away in spring break, not to return and felt like it was a court-ordered stay in my living's messy divorce.
This was not marked in my planner.
My advice to students struggling with the same feelings as myself, is to know this is a temporary situation. The parent's nagging will only last so long, heck this may even be one of the last times we are living with them. Try to enjoy it, and bite your tongue if you feel the inner sixteen-year-old in you craving a good fight, as we are now in their house.
For the parents, give your child a breather. This may feel abnormal as old routines are broken, but they have been living alone for months, even years. Living alone requires a certain level of responsibility that I'm sure they are capable of. This is the time for bonding, checking in on your kids and having fun (while in quarantine), not reminders and pestering about what needs to be done.
I know I'm tired of this strange, in-between stage of life but apparently it is also the best, so I'll try to appreciate my time through my confusion.
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