Crashing out might just have been my accidental Hail Mary

So, yesterday was the quietest day ever. Like, deafeningly quiet. The kind of silence that makes you want to scream just to make sure your voice still works. Nobody said a word. Not to me, not to each other. It was this huge, awkward, looming silence, and honestly, I wasn’t about to break it. I avoided my aunt and uncle all day because, yeah, I knew I messed up, but I wasn’t ready for the confrontation. Not even a little.

But today... today was the big sit-down. Anxiety through the roof, tears ready to roll at a moment's notice. And it happened—I sat there, trying not to shrink into the chair, while they talked, and I just listened. And, okay, I wasn’t expecting this, but it wasn’t bad? Like, actually not bad.

They told me I’m moving out on March 15th. Two months. I have two months to figure my life out. And here’s the kicker—they’ve been putting the rent I’ve been paying toward my apartment. My apartment. I don’t even know how to process that. It’s like, on one hand, wow, they actually believe I can do this. On the other hand, what the heck? Why didn’t I know this sooner? Cue the tears because I’m a mess.

And then last night, I came home from work, and my door was back. Like, fully reattached. Just standing there like nothing ever happened. And my phone? My beautiful, lifeline of a phone? Its charging dock was back, too. I stood there staring at it, half-expecting it to disappear if I blinked. I wasn’t even happy, just... confused. Guilty. Relieved. Worried? It’s all a blur.

They’re stepping back now, letting me figure things out. Treating me like an adult. Which is funny, because I feel like I’m just barely figuring out what that even means. And, yeah, I’m still paying off the car my uncle bought me, but that’s fair. That’s not even a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Honestly? Maybe my little meltdown was the unintentional power move I didn’t know I had in me. Like, was it ideal? No. Was it effective? Weirdly, yes. Life’s strange like that, I guess.

So, here I am—two months to go, door back on its hinges, phone in hand, and trying really hard not to screw it all up again. March 15th is the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m running toward it full speed. Or maybe walking. Or tripping. Either way, I’ll get there.