I never thought that considering to buy a succulent would be such a momentous decision in my life. But neither did I think that settling down would come so gradually. I always thought I’d finally be able to settle down once I got married, and it would be sudden and definite. Slowly this summer I’ve come to realize that I actually am, at long last, settled.

When I was in bible college I heard the words “nesting instinct” for the first time, and realized that my desire to have my own things and live in my own house had a name. And simultaneously I realized that I had to switch off that instinct indefinitely, because I knew that I needed to pursue a life in Ireland.

So all my books went on Kindle, and anything else that wasn’t immediately necessary or useful, I wouldn’t buy. I stopped adding to my beloved record collection, and a trip to a thrift store or a Marshall’s would twinge my heart to see lovely things to decorate a house or room with.

Between graduating college in 2012 and moving here in 2017, I lived in my old room from when I was a teenager. Although it had a bookshelf and a few other things, it felt stark because never updated the decor. I had my Lord of the Rings poster, an Irish flag, and a borrowed plant from my sister, but it didn’t feel like my room anymore. At best, it felt a bit like a monk’s quarters; at worst it felt like a prison I’d never leave.

This September 8th marks the one year anniversary of my arrival in Ireland, which is a huge deal. I haven’t been in one place for a full year since October 2013-2014, and since 2010 the longest I’ve spent in one place is a year and ten months.

Throughout my twenties, the only constant in my life has been change, and it’s been so painful. I needed to be able to pack my life into my three duffel bags, because that way I was able to easily move to Ireland when I needed to be here. But while many an adventurer would claim that type of lifestyle is freeing, it actually was suffocating to me.

This summer I realized just how much all the back-and-forth affected me. I didn’t accumulate belongings, but I did accumulate callouses around my heart. It grieved me to watch it happen. I love people: love my friends, love making new ones, but I stopped letting people in all the way. Why would I, if I was just going to move soon anyway? Too painful.

Every time I had to leave Ireland it made me cry.

As my one-year mark approached, despite knowing that I’d be staying here, I began to feel myself pulling away mentally, getting ready for my heart to tear again. I was starting to get prickly.

It was my self-sufficiency and independence that enabled me to fight for my dream of living in Ireland, and I finally made it. But it also prevented me from being able to have fulfilling friendships. It took a season of desperation and tight finances this summer to realize just what treasure I have in my friends here. This summer I learned to ask for help, which is something I have never done in my life, and I had to start with tiny things that felt like mountains, like asking for sunscreen, or accepting someone’s offer to buy my lunch.

I always knew my friends would be there for me in hard times, but this summer I had no choice but to rely on other people. Now I’ve learned that it’s okay to have one bad day after another, to feel really weak and to rely on the strength of others who love me.

Once I was able to just let go like that, I see that it’s the people here who create the home for my heart. That keen longing to settle down was never about decorating a house, but what settling down represents. Like a houseplant, now I have space and time for stability, growth, slowness, the mundane.

If I can buy something with roots, then maybe my heart can start to grow some roots too, at long last.