The term bittersweet has never been more applicable to my life than right now. As classes wrap up and my planner becomes more barren and satisfying to look at, I’m facing another challenge that’s different than just passing another round of classes in my efforts to receive a degree.  Moving home. Again.

I’m moving from my own room complete with my own bathroom and personal space, to about  a quarter of my sister’s bedroom to camp out until August 2. Now let me clear something up real quick: I love my family and I look forward to every Sunday to have a chance to hang out with them and reunite with my three doggies. But, living with them is a whole different story.

Here at school, when I want it to be night time I simply close the blinds and turn my phone on silent, it doesn’t matter what time of the day it is. There, I face the challenge of side stepping four other people and three dogs, all of which are running on their own schedule.

My dogs find it necessary to alert  the entire house of any and all passerby’s with their’ majestic barks that make me want to pull my hair out. My dad sneezes like there’s a permanent microphone affixed to his collar. My sister and I both value clothing and shoes and the idea of squeezing my wardrobe in half of a closet is as possible as me becoming the next player for the NBA. So to say that this change is a little bit difficult is the understatement of the century.

Yeah I know, first world problems. I realize that I probably sound like a complete brat right now and I’ll be the first to admit it, I am a brat. Having been spoiled with my own space and own accountability, I have become a bigger brat concerning living arrangements.

In all seriousness, it’s hard to move back home after being on your own. I’m not used to doing anyone’s dishes but my own and I like it that way. When my mom asks me where I’m going and when I’ll be home and who am I going with and who’s driving, it’s going to be hard to not get annoyed with the line of interrogation that comes with grabbing my keys and saying ‘see ya’ later.’

The hardest thing about moving back home is hands down leaving the home I’ve made for myself in Northern Kentucky since coming to college. If anyone knows anything about the stigma of a Cincinnati westsider, we’re known for staying put and being a westsider for life.

While I’m one of the proudest westsiders you’ll find inhabiting Northern Kentucky, I’ve started to recognize home the moment I-471 runs into 27. I walk into Frisch’s over here and I instantly recognize at least three people I’ve met during my time here at NKU. At home, I recognize people because my parents know them some way or because I’ve grown up within the same 10-mile radius and so of course we know each other.

It’s such a satisfying feeling to have made my own life here in Northern Kentucky and having become a part of a community on my own merit. These are my people, these are the people that I know and recognize and smile at because I know them and I met them on my own. It’s about having my own niche somewhere that I created for myself ever since I was that nervous, awkward freshman moving away from home in the Fall of 2011.

I don’t even entertain the idea of going to another Applebees besides the one on Alexandria Pike. I won’t feel like the NKU Norse completely overrun it and I won’t recognize 10 people as soon as I walk in. Then it’s just a restaurant, and let me tell you, I go to Applebees for a lot more than their food, no offense.

I am excited for Summer and and I am nervous for Summer all at the same time. I’ve gotten closer with my mom since coming to college because we’re not in each other’s hair 24/7. I don’t argue with my sisters ever because Hannah didn’t steal my shirt and wear it right in front of me the other day because my clothes are here and she’s there.

My dad doesn’t resent me (as much) for being a freeloader still living in my parents house as a leech—that’s his term, not mine. My dogs don’t really annoy me with their barking because I don’t hear it every day when I lay down for a nap. I don’t want my relationships with my family to be stressed because we’ll be back under each other’s feet all of the time.

I plan to take this summer as a time to really develop and spend time with my family. This is my last summer to be able to be a kid in some ways. Next year I’ll be graduated and desperate for a full time job and then I really shouldn’t be living with my parents. So I’ll get ticked off when my mom tells me to unload the dishwasher because I only used one cup in it, and I’ll say a few choice words to my sister when she decides to raid my closet, and I’ll make a dramatic expression of annoyance at my dogs when they bark as soon as I was about to lose consciousness. This is really my last time to bless myself with all of the great and annoying things that comes along with moving back home.

Summer 2014 is a go and I’m ready to love most of it and absolutely hate some of it.  I wish everyone in my predicament well and remember: you’re not alone!