Noah Kahan once said, “We ain’t angry at you, love, you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.” But sometimes, or even most of the time, I don’t feel like the great thing my family lost – I feel like my family is the greatest thing I’ve lost. Since leaving home a little under two years ago, I’ve discovered more about myself than I had for the 17 years prior. I’ve grown into an independent young adult with a clear-cut future ahead of me. Yet, at the same time, I feel like my independence has a curse. The family I felt behind isn’t staying still or waiting for me to come back – they’re growing as well and learning how to live without me there. I’m terrified the cost of my independence is my family realizing I wasn’t all that special anyways.
Since leaving, I’ve learned how to take a breath of fresh air. My mental health has improved beyond horizons and I wake up every morning to a peaceful, quiet home contrast to what I was raised in. Every dinner I make is food I love and every decision I make is completely up to me and nobody else. I have a job, a nice car, an education, a home, a safe environment, lovely roommates, and even with all of this, a small part of my heart chips off every time I visit back home. There’s always a new inside joke, a new chair, a new family-favorite meal, a new tradition, a new routine, a new normal without me.Â
I don’t ever want to move back home, but I’m also chronically homesick. I’m away from the people who hurt me mentally and made me walk on eggshells constantly, and at the same time, I miss them.Â
There’s also the family members who you’ve grown up with – in my case, my sisters. Navigating life without the people I lived down the hall from my entire life is one of the most challenging parts of exploring my independence. Both of my sisters still live in the city I left, creating new normals without me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly happy they have each other. I love when my little sister tells me all about the hangouts she had with our older sister, especially since she is usually always working. I would be lying, though, if I said I was completely content. To be truthful, I have to fight the urges to drop everything and drive the two hours back home every weekend just to see my sisters.
I hate that finding and grounding my independence needs to be done alone. I have solo trips in state parks planned for future weekends and as much as I try to convince myself this is what will heal me, I know they’re nothing in comparison to a late-night talk with my sisters in my bedroom back home.Â
The funny thing is – my independence has healed me (contrary to the message I’m giving off in this article). It’s healed me so much that sometimes I truly believe I can go back home and just stay there. That all the work and self-care I’ve done will hold strong so I can be with the people I love the most. But another part of me knows that’s illogical. Another part of me knows I still have so much left to learn, experience, and explore within myself.Â
And so, I will continue to do so. Life is a complicated game to navigate without failures or setbacks. My respawn point has moved from my hometown to my college town, and that in itself is challenging to accept. But I’m also happier than I’ve ever been and I’ve gained so much experience I can’t ever imagine my life not here in Chico. Maybe one day I’ll find that sweet balance: where I don’t feel guilt or sadness thinking of my family back home and where I can fully appreciate my time alone. Or maybe, I’ll come to accept this longing for the life I used to have is just part of the process. Whatever process that may be – I’m still trying to figure that out myself, stuck between the villages.