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I move into The Mans this morning. It's my last night here in the apartment and I can't sleep.

It's just weird, all these boxes and the vacant walls and stuff.

I've lived here in my one-bedroom apartment on North Stanley longer than I've lived any place in Los Angeles, not to mention it's the next to longest I've lived in one place my entire life.

I've always been the kind of person who was able to move to the streets of L.A. when I was 18 because I believe home is within me -- not any external place.

But the truth is, right now, I'm very scared.

I know I'm just being stupid. I'm getting shared use of a huge mansion, plus a yard for Sadie and friends for her to play with, a swimming pool, a patio for parties and grill outs, my own separate entrance to the place, regular maid service and practically a live-in cook, just to name a few of the amenities!

But my God, my actual living quarters is smaller than my living room.

And I have had so much privacy for so many years. I don't even let people come over unannounced. Now I'm moving into a place with 7 people.

That's not to say that I don't already know it's the best decision for me. It's an opportunity I've jumped on because it's not every day that you can save a shit load of money to upgrade your living conditions. But though the upgrades are many, it's still going to be an adjustment.

So many things of my family's I won't even be able to enjoy. Where will I put all these stupid hundred dollar Royal Daulton mugs? You know, the little figurines of the characters? Have you ever seen those? They're just silly family heir loom brick-a-brack. ...And what about the pictures of the two French waiters that hang above my stove that my mom got me just because she thought that space on the wall needed something? Stupid stuff to be concerned with or sad about. But they are mine. And I can't use them or see them now.

Still... save a grand a month, move into a mansion and give Sadie (and quite possibly myself!) a much fuller existence.

I'm very lucky.

It's just scary letting go of something so familiar. And let's face it... it was only about a year and a half ago that I was borderline agoraphobic! Afraid to connect with anyone for fear of being hurt. Afraid to leave my house to go to the grocery store.

I've known for a while that's not who I am anymore. But...

Now...

Any chance I had of ever retreating back into that person...

Gone.

I probably should've made the move a long time ago. Too many things I've hung onto being here.

I'm definitely leaving a couple of skeletons in these closets when I walk out that door on Wednesday morning.

And as scary as that may be, I can't deny that it's for the best.

I also think -- no, I know -- that I'm needed in that place right now . Like Mary Poppins was needed by the Banks, honey! There's a lot I can do for that house and all of its tennants right now. But those stories will come in time.

My mom says, "I don't think there's ever been a time in your life up until now that you could've lived with this many people. But now, I think you can and I think it will be good for you."

She's right, though it's not the first time I've lived with people! I lived for many wonderful years with Brinke Stevens when I first moved to L.A. who was the best roommate I could've ever asked for. And truthfully, my favorite period living in this apartment was the short time I lived here with my ex-boyfriend. So maybe it's not so scary after all.

Anyway, it's an adventure.

I'm thankful you're still taking it with me. I might need you for this part of the ride more than you know.

Remember when I told you a couple years back that I wouldn't be writing about my personal life anymore?

Mmm. All that's about to change.