I’m still on my phone, so please forgive the typos I will inevitably make and can’t see to correct.

I’m wondering, as I start this post, about the difference between truth telling and confessing. I have this desire to confess my shame to you, Imaginary Reader, I think in the hopes that in admitting to things, I will feel a sense of relief. And, what was the truth for me a couple hours ago, isn’t now. I have moved to a very different place and actually feel quite happy and peaceful.

I am not a perfect person. We both know this by now, and we know that my imperfections are difficult for me to accept. I allowed myself to be bullyed today into giving up information over the phone that I wasn’t comfortable giving. Including my social securitynumber. I was an idiot and regretted it immediately. I spent the next hour or two trying to prevent damage I’d just opened myself up to. I spent the following few hours feeling awful about this. My mom and I went ahead with our furniture shopping plans. I bought a couple pieces Ican’t really afford witH money my mother loaned me. I then decided that most, if not every, cent that I have spent so far trying to make this place a home hasbeen an unnecessary extravagance and feeling terribly about it was justified. The shame spiral I entered carried me through to dinner.

These are my confessions. I sometimes make really bad decisions and I sometimes borrow money from my mom to give myself what I want. More, I sometimes want material things. Why do I feel so strongly right now like Ineed to justify this to you? Like I need to tell you about the times I’ve gone without or the clearance prices we got so that you will pat me on the head and approve of me? You, Imaginary Reader, who wouldn’t be able to pick my face out of a small crowd, now have the power to decide if I am an okay person despite these things because Ihave just given it to you.

I want to take my power back, and I’m not sure I can.

My mom and I ended our very long day sitting on my patio, staring out into the star-filled desert sky having a lovely conversation. I am now going to sleep in my own bed (the movers delivered my things this morning) in my very own bedroom (did I ever mention that I used to sleep in a walk-in closet?). I am making myself a home and for the first time since I arrived, I actually believe it has the potential to feel like one.

I am powerful. There is so much tied up in this move that has to do with taking my power back. I am already doing it in bits and pieces. Just because it doesn’t always feel like I am, it doesn’t make it any less true.