I sat down this evening and wrote a post about why I’m still living at home at the ripe old age of almost-25. It got long and disheartening and generally dispirited and grumpy. So I’ve taken the advice of a good friend and shortened it to three sentences:
I live with my Dad, who has post-polio syndrome and is unable to do a lot of things without my help.
I have only reached the decision to stay in the last few months, and I’m still struggling with giving up a lot of things that I’ve been planning and wanting for years.
I’m so glad for all the good things I have in my life, and that includes everyone who is reading this.