This post is different from the content I usually write, but it’s here to give some insight into my life. This is primarily a blog about being an Asian + American woman with blonde hair, but I think it’s important to have some perspective. I write a lot about hair, what works for me and product reviews. That can get rather robotic.
I want you to know there is a human behind everything you read on this site. I truly care about helping people who may have the same questions about hair or related products. I offer my POV in hopes of creating a lane for people who may have hair like mine, women in their 40s who feel like they’re not, and those who are just looking for confirmation that they’re not the only ones thinking the thoughts they don’t want to say out loud.
Deciding to Move Into My Mom’s House
Well, what actually happened was the movers carried the boxes and furniture into my childhood home on July 1st. But carrying what I did felt right.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to move into the home my Mom left me. I miss her every day. I finally decided after spending Christmas in Tennessee. It was the financially sound choice.
When I told my Mom’s friends, they were overjoyed. That’s when they told me my Mom wanted me to live in the house. I asked why they didn’t tell me before, and they said she wanted me to come to that conclusion on my own.
That is so my Mom. She always wanted me to make my own choices and never told me how to live my life. She’d give advice when asked, but she never told me what to do. She was so good at being supportive. Knowing that made me feel more confident in my decision.
I was really worried I’d feel emotional and cry a lot. Instead, the day was pretty calm considering the heat and chaos of moving.
Moving Back Home
It was the hottest day of the summer. I didn’t know that when I booked the movers. I just knew it would be better to secure something for the middle of the week instead of the weekend. I felt bad for the movers, but it was a done deal. I did tip both of them pretty well.
I had portions of the house renovated because it was time, but the layout was still the same and everything felt familiar. The only thing that was missing was my Mom.
Even though everything was familiar to me, some things were foreign to my boyfriend. I’d keep saying, “Put that in the spare room,” and then realize he didn’t know which room I meant. He asked me questions about the HVAC system, the basement, when garbage day was and other random things like that. I realized this house was new to him.
I remember how hot it was, and I remember being worried all our stuff wouldn’t fit in the house. My Mom’s furniture was still haphazardly placed in the living room. Since we were moving out of an apartment, everything had to come with us because we weren’t sure what we were keeping.
I remember seeing my cheap IKEA furniture being brought in and placed next to my Mom’s marble coffee table that was imported from Italy. Needless to say, a couple of weeks later, a lot of our stuff was sold or donated. I’m still working on making things flow together.
Everything was disorganized because of the lack of space. The majority of our things were placed in my childhood bedroom, now my office. It was overwhelming, but I knew we were going to get through it.
One of the fun things about being in this house is remembering exactly how loud I can be. After living in an apartment for years, it was nice to just be myself. I can sing as loud as I want and make funny noises without worrying about disturbing the neighbors, even though our old neighbors never seemed particularly concerned about disturbing us.
Putting My Desk in My Childhood Bedroom
It was weird bringing my computer desk into my childhood bedroom. I remember how I had that room laid out, so it’s strange seeing it without a bed.
My room was like any ’90s kid bedroom. I had a beaded curtain, glow stars on the ceiling and Sugar Ray stickers. When I moved out, my Mom kept my room the same. I knew I always had my space at home.
We moved the bed out the weekend before the move because we knew the room was going to be a temporary staging space while we got settled. I prioritized our bedroom and kitchen first. I wanted to make sure the space we slept in was also a safe space for our cat because I wasn’t sure how she was going to respond to being in a house. Our cat and bird’s safety was my priority.
The bird lives in the dining area, and when the movers were here, I had them move my Mom’s giant china cabinet into the dining room. I did get emotional around that.
Eventually, I started getting frustrated because I didn’t have access to my desk. Sitting on the couch with my laptop was killing my back, so my boyfriend made getting my desk in order a priority after everything else.
I felt more productive once I had my desk set up. I think it was because I was truly at home in a space I knew so well. The carpeting in the room is still the same, and the beaded curtain is still up. The room needs some TLC, but we’ll get there.
And Then Blonde Asian Got Its First Click
July 1st is also the day Google Search Console showed me that this blog received its first click. This was near the end of the movers doing their job.
I’ve talked about how I knew starting a blog would mean a lot of silence while I wrote content into the internet void, let the site age and waited for Google to start trusting my blog enough to show it to people. That first click felt like, I’m doing it. I’m finally being seen.
I was sitting on the couch, pretty sweaty, and my boyfriend was standing by the door. I hit refresh and saw the solo click. I smiled and told him. He was so happy for me, but we decided not to hug at that specific moment because we were so sweaty.
I check Search Console every day. I know I shouldn’t because a dip in numbers right now is so small, but it feels like failure. Seeing that first click felt like the first sign that this blog could work. It mattered because someone chose to read something I wrote.
Getting that click on moving day made me feel like everything was lining up and everything would work out. After our quick celebration, we went back to waiting for the movers to finish.
Looking back now, that first click feels like learning to walk before running. I plan on running a marathon.
I Always Felt Like I Was Moving Home
When the movers were bringing in boxes, the front door was open, as well as the garage. A bird flew into the house. It was a cute little city wren, and I immediately felt like it was my Mom letting me know she was with us.
My Mom associated special moments with animals with people who had passed. I liked that. It wasn’t until I lost my Mom that I started feeling those special connections myself.
I said out loud to my boyfriend and our friend that it was my Mom. The birdie was having a hard time getting out and started trying to fly through a closed window. Our friend calmly took the bird in her hands and released her outside.
The house still felt unfinished with things all over the place, but we definitely felt a weight lifted off our shoulders.
I still call this house my Mom’s house. The first night here, I got the best sleep of my life. I know there’s an adjustment period when you’re in a new environment, but I guess my body just knew I was home and I was safe.
Moving into my childhood home, my Mom’s house and now my house was actually a pleasant experience. I was worried I’d be too emotional, but I had an incredible sense of calm that day. When the sun went down, I realized I had made the right decision moving back home.
My House, My Mom’s House, My Home
Now that I’ve been here for a moment, I still switch between calling this house my house and my Mom’s house. I’m not sure if that will ever change, and I really don’t care. I love my Mom.
I thought I was going to be sad or super stressed out on top of being emotional. Instead, it’s the most settled I’ve felt in this past year.
When I think of July 1st, I think about the heat. I mean, it was hot. But the calm and peace I felt then are still with me now. They’re not a memory.
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