My five month anniversary of living in DC is coming up at the end of June, and I am finally feeling comfortable in this not as humid, but still really humid, town. I have had a lot of great opportunities. There have been handfuls of people watching out for me, routing me on, pushing me to become better. Some of those handfulls even became my friends.
While I was home over Memorial Day, for my brothers graduation, I put my finger on what it really was about me leaving home, and leaving my family.
It was like I was never even there.
Every time I would leave home, pack up my stuff and head out, it was like I had never even been there. My wall color is now different, there is a different comforter on the bed, my collection of almost empty bottles of lotion sits on my night stand collecting dust, my mom stole my Cherry Blossom Scentsy…
I would come in with my suitcase full of clothes that used to hang in my closet. And every time I would leave with exactly what was in my suitcase. No more forgetting something, or not caring if I left it behind because I would be home next weekend. This past time, I left my room exactly how I had found it. As if it had been untouched.
Yes, a few dirt particles were lifted, I took a picture off the wall, but nobody would notice that but me. (and possibly my mother) That’s when it hit me. Yes, I missed my family terribly. Yes, I felt inaccessible at every single moment in time. Yes, I felt like I was missing out. But most of all, most of all, I felt like I just wasn’t there. Like if that room was mine long ago, and now it is filled with memories of the past, a past I am no longer “a part of” because I don’t live there anymore.
I left my house tracing the walls with my fingers. I was thinking of how my walls used to be purple, of exactly where my Keith Urban poster used to hang, and of every single way I have had my room rearranged. Soaking it up like the nostalgia would just somehow transcend into my finger tips so I could feel those walls whenever I closed my eyes. Hoping that when people walked into my room after I have left that they too remember my walls used to be purple, and how many posters I had covering every inch of wall space, and how completely ridiculous I was in rearranging my room.
My life has shifted.
It still hurts to think about how the things that are in my room here were once in my room down in North Carolina. I know exactly where everything would go if I ever moved back. There was an expected routine at home. The comfort of knowing somebody is there for you, always.
My handfulls are here for me in DC, I know, but nothing can beat knowing your parents, siblings and closest friends being a stones throw away.
I was thinking the other day of how I now have a job in DC. Not an internship, not a retail job, not something that I could pack up and leave at a moments notice, but a responsibility; I have a real job. That got me thinking of all of the things that will change permanently. My address for starters. 7066 cannot be my fall back address for much longer. Dreading the day I won’t fill in that address in for my permanent address is an understatement. The government may not see it as my permanent address, but my heart always will.
My doctors will change. I have decided this is single-handedly the most terrifying thing about moving away from home. In college I could always come home on the weekends, or skip class for a day if I needed to in order to go my doctor. I have been going to the same doctors for 14 years. How am I supposed to choose something that? What if I don’t like them? Or their cold hands freak me out? I will get a, “whats your name?” instead of a “how’s your mother doing?” and “did Jared win his last soccer game?”
I will eventually, when Virginia catches me, have to change my license and license plate. That, I feel, is the last concrete thing that connects me to North Carolina. It’s that fine line of what feels like home, and what defines home.
My friends are moving on with life in North Carolina, developing new routines that I am not a part of, meeting new people, and most of all changing. When I go home there will be new bars they want to try on Saturday night because when they went there with X it was so rad, and not the bar we always chose.
Instead of thinking “I was never there,” I need to think that my home, my family and my friends, are holding me and my memory in their hearts just as tightly and just as severely as I am holding them. It’s not that I was never there, it is that they are feeling the same longing as I am, but in a completely different way.
Maybe painting over my walls was my parents way of dealing with me going to college. Maybe person X and bar Y is my friends way of keeping “our place” sacred in their hearts. People are changing, and moving on, but they aren’t forgetting. They are holding nostalgia and the memories we shared in the same way, just a different circumstance. Sometimes I feel like they have it harder than I do. I might be fighting for myself up here in DC, but I am creating new routines and discovering new places. But the people I left behind are following the same routines, and being forced to fill a hole where I used to be.
That hole is something that for the pain in our hearts sake we are desperate to fill, but also desperate to leave wide open in fear of finding something else to fill it with that we just might like better.
I feel ya, hula hoop. We just moved and the “not being there” bit is what gets to me, too. My friends are having drinks, kids are playing, coffee and chatting is taking place and I just kind of got plucked out of the scene.
The year that we both spent at home is one of the most sacred and cherished memories of my entire twenties at this point. There is no way I would have survived without you there, no way I could have survived without your constant and always understanding friendship. I hate going to all the places we hung out because then I miss you even more. And now, when I am so so so busy and you are so so so busy it’s crazy to look back on that year and remember how we both felt so useless and out of place in a world that didn’t “need” us yet. We are still figuring everything out, and I guess we will always be figuring something out. Anyways, I miss hanging out with you to the moon and back and can’t wait until I catch a break and can come see you.
Another good post, Sissy, however this one made me a little sad. The part where you came home and felt you had never been here… you must know that even though your body is not physically here, your sound echoes all over every inch of this house!
Then you said when you left, you let your fingers trace your walls… I about lost it. I can see you doing that and feel the emotion you must have felt at that moment. No matter the color of paint on the walls or the “new comforters”, your room will always be purple and there will always be posters everywhere I look! I am truly thankful for this new phase in your life… this wonderful new chapter that you have stepped into and have been blessed to experience. You have a full time job. You are only 23 years old. You are living in our nation’s capitol getting to see and do what most never will. You are living your dream, or at least one of them. That to me, is so very exciting. The possibilities that are before you are endless. You have jumped in with both feet even when you felt like giving up and were so completely homesick you didn’t think you would survive another day, but you DID! You have made some great friends. Your “roommate” is wonderful and so generous and giving. She has basically made this opportunity “a go” for you. We are thankful for her and her willingness to have you and our Sadie Muffin. The people who hired you and those you work with, have complete confidence in you. They believe in you and proved it by hiring you. You will do great things. Dad and I are so proud of you. Your entire family is proud of you. Always remember that where ever you roam, 7066 will ALWAYS be your HOME! So much love and thankfulness for you!! Mom xoxoxo
I have read this post several times and get emotional each time. You are wise beyond your years. I am so proud of you and your bravery. You are purposefully living your dream.
We are so grateful and blessed that we have been a part of your journey. I must admit that i live vicariously through you, watching your adventure as though immersed in a good book. (You know a little bit about that, right?) Like every great novel, the protagonist does face adversity. (It would be such a boring read if she didn’t.). However, Her faith, tenacity (stubbornness?), intelligence, and humor see her through.
You must know that you leave an indelible mark everywhere you alight. Like a puppy walking through fresh cement, your impact is felt long after you have moved on. And like seeing those footprints ensconced in concrete, I smile each time I go upstairs into your old room and picture you and Sadie living here.
Thank you for this honest and deply personal post. Another example of why we are all so impressed with the woman you have become.