the house that built me.

i was flipping through old photos yesterday.

some made me laugh, a lot made me smile, 

some made me reminisce on years that seem very long ago...

but the one photo that stood out the most to me wasn't a picture of me, or family...

the picture that stood out the most was a picture of the house i grew up in.

when i say grew up in, i mean it literally.

we moved into that house

{after my parents built it from the ground up}

 when i was just 3 years old.

i moved out when i was 18-- 

i went off to college,

and due to their divorce, 

my parents sold the only house i had ever known...

the house that has my handprints in the cement on the garage floor.

the house that i learned to ride a bike in front of...

the house that i had my first real kiss with the husband in front of.

 i am fairly certain i could tell you exactly how many stairs are in each of the staircases.

i could probably walk through the entire house blindfolded and not get hurt.

looking at this single picture brings back a flood of so many memories.

happy memories.

sad memories.

great memories.

memories that have lead me to who i am today.

my first few years in college were rough years for me.

looking back on them, i realize that i struggled with depression worse than i care to admit.

all the changes i was going through definitely attributed to the depression

i know that having to give up the only home i ever knew did too.

have you ever heard the miranda lambert song, "the house that built me"?

she puts into words exactly how i felt:

{"I thought if I could touch this place or feel it 

this brokenness inside me might start healing. 

Out here its like I'm someone else, 

I thought that maybe I could find myself. 

If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. 

Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me."}

even though the depression is gone now, and i'm married with a daughter...

i'd be lying if i said i wouldn't want to go back inside.