Once upon a time I went away. I went away to reinvent myself. I went away to find out who I was where no one already knew the answer.
Growing up in a small town never allowed me the luxury of feeling like I could be myself. I wasn’t anything outrageous, I just didn’t fit in. It’s a real shame that so much of who we become is based on what other people decide we are. It’s too bad I didn’t figure a lot of it out sooner. I’m jealous of those people who do.
I came back home to be near family, family I still rarely see. My father, and the last of my parents, passed away only a few months after I moved back to be closer to him. Why didn’t I just stay to begin with? Why did I have to miss out on all the advice he could’ve given me just to run off and discover myself?
By the time I was 25 I had lived in 5 different states and accomplished nearly nothing. I still haven’t written a book, I’m still in school. I’m still trying to figure it all out and I have a lot of regrets about a lot of wasted time.
Every morning I still wake up with the urge to run. The only difference is, now, I have people I would take with me. I will probably always be a flight risk. That’s not very settling, I know.
Today I wish I had never moved back home and uprooted my daughter from a place where she was thriving to bring her back here. (So much for small town sentiments) I don’t really know what to do with that regret and that guilt. I keep waiting for the tides to turn so I can say it was all worth it. I keep waiting for people to drop their double standards and give a kid the break they got. Because I truly believe, there is not one person, of all the people who so pretentiously wag their fingers in her direction, who would be in the position to do so if all the cards were on the table.
Not every blog post is full of universal truths. As a matter of fact, I hope this doesn’t ring true for anyone else. If you live in a bubble where it all works and it all makes sense, and double standards don’t rule the universe, stay there. I’m envious.