Moving out at 28
Change will come
Change comes in many ways.
It can come kindly, gently, asking simply and considerately for your cooperation.
Or it can barge in, take you by the arm, and drag you into a new adventure, for better or for worse.
My experience with this big change was, somehow, a bittersweet mix of the two. After I finished my master’s degree, I moved back home with my mum and sister. I soon got a job teaching elementary music, and with a hefty commute (2hr 30min there and back), I let myself fall into a tired routine. Maybe not a good one, but I was fortunate enough to have a job after graduation, and I wasn’t going to take that for granted. Fast forward four years, and I was working in a different city while still living at home. In writing about this topic, living at home in your adult life, I hope to make one thing abundantly clear: I am incredibly grateful for the time I was able to spend in the place I grew up. It’s an opportunity most people don’t get, at least in the way I did. That house, that land, that area saw so much of my life. My childhood, my adolescence, my teenage angst, and my growth into a young adult. And now it was witnessing my personage as an actual adult. One with a job and bills.
But still, I found myself falling back into old habits. Behavior residuals from my time there as a teen, high school attitudes, and overall grumpiness and discontent. Everything in the world had been telling me, from the time I could understand such things, that I needed to be out by 18, married by 20-something, and in a house with kids before 30. So what had I done wrong? Where had my life gone so terribly off track that I was living with my mom, wonderful lady that she is, in my late 20s? Especially with no romantic relationship on the horizon. Not even a whiff of love in sight.
Was this God’s way of saying “Get thee to a nunnery?”
If that was the case, then I guess I’d make a decent nun. However, after much thought and consultation with the Almighty, I don’t believe that was the message I was receiving.
Still, the restlessness lingered; I felt it brewing inside, and I could hardly stand the desire to leave. I’ll be honest, it didn’t make sense to me, and I was overwhelmed with guilt for feeling that way. My situation was far from bad. Loving home that I was welcomed back into, fellowship and quality time with my favorite people on earth, and more time with my mom than the average human gets in their lifetime.
I was able to let go of the unease and restlessness for a while. Looking at my life with gratitude, rather than “Why, God, whyyyyy!!” And in that place of gratitude, I learned so much.
The Essence of Patience
My mother taught me many lessons while I was there. Some she’s probably not even aware she taught me. Gardening, canning, preserving food, how to work hard, and (most of all) patience.
So when my sister and I decided it was time to look for a place to move, I approached the search with patience. Sort of. We searched for months, looking at houses to buy, houses to rent, and apartments to rent, and we came up empty-handed for a good portion of that time.
But we waited and avoided hasty decisions, despite how tempting they were. Finally, in the fall of 2025, an apartment came up on our radar that seemed to fit the bill.
We talked to the property manager, and after a week or two of thought, applied, got approval, and signed the lease.
Did I mention we hadn’t actually toured it, or even walked around the property?
Oddly enough, we didn’t need to. It felt…right. Everything lined up in such a precise way, from finances to timing, and we knew that was it.
Oh so cozy!
The move happened largely in one day. Everything was shoved into bags, boxes, cars, trailers, and just like that, I was in my new (much larger) bedroom with my belongings scattered around me. I have since put a great deal of thought into how I want to structure and cozify my space, personal and shared. We bought a bunch of stuff up front, but paced ourselves to the best of our ability. When we got the couch, after month two of living there, it began to feel like a home.
Now, we have our patio decorated, the living room stocked with books and warm lights, the bedrooms mostly settled, and I have my Greenstalk planter set up as my tiny fortress of farm life and homesteading at our apartment.
My patch of joy: Fresh, healthy plants! Rosemary is in the upper pockets, then a mix of kale and butter crunch lettuce, and some lovely flowers at the bottom!
Thinking back on the timing, the waiting, the restlessness, and the learned patience, I can’t figure out a way this could have happened better. Moving out at 28 initially made me feel behind and like a failure. Now, I am thankful I waited. I only needed to be on mine and the Almighty’s schedule, no one else’s. Timing is everything, and everyone’s timing is different. It’s meant to be. There’s no beauty in people doing all the same things, meeting the same milestones at the same time in the same way. So as you look at the paths other people take, remember that yours is your own. Not theirs. It will look different, and that’s the way it should be. It’s GOOD that you’re on a journey unique to only you. When it’s time to move out, move out. If it’s time to wait and learn, then do so.
Change will always come, one way or another.
Until next time,
Mikayla
