I am moving back home and I am sad about it… But happy, too? But also, like, really sad.
I am moving for multiple reasons. If you ask me why on two separate days, you might get two different answers. Ask me on a third day, and I may just say, “I don’t know. I don’t want to move at all.”
My decision to move emerged from a particularly dark period I was going through. I had been feeling down on pretty much a daily basis. It could have been the result of many things – working too much, feeling lonely, sub-zero temperatures, not knowing what I want to do with my life – and all of those things at once. Ultimately, I began associating the feeling with homesickness. However, I consider multiple places “home.”
I was born and raised in Omaha, NE (a great town, I might add). When I first moved to go to school in Minnesota, I was homesick for Omaha. Specifically – my room, my bed, my dog, my family, my high school class. But I had goals – to get a degree, to make friends, to have “the college experience.” My homesickness began to fade.
During my junior year, I studied abroad in London for four months, and a new homesickness emerged. I missed my campus, my friends from school, my professors, my rehearsals. But I was in London. Something new and exciting was happening every moment. Soon enough I became too exhausted to be homesick.
I returned to school after that semester, fresh from a relaxing Christmas break in Omaha, but soon a new homesickness hit me like a ton of bricks (are you sensing a pattern here?). Yeah, I missed London. I missed adventure, the hustle and bustle, the history. But I had to focus on my 18 credits of classes and juggling rehearsals for two shows at once. No time to miss London too much.
Now, I’ve been graduated for a year. I’ve been living in Minneapolis ever since, and I love it here. But I’m homesick. Homesick for all of those things combined. I miss being a high schooler in Omaha – my problems were so miniscule back then. I was so unseasoned and had poor taste in literature. I miss being in college – I feel like that’s when I really came into my own. I was busy but thriving. There was always a friend living only a few doors down. I miss being in London – I am constantly on the lookout for cheap flights. I think about just doing it – just getting a ticket and taking that long, much-needed vacation. I’m having trouble looking to the future because I’m still stuck in the good ol’ days.
My roommate and I were talking about how this specific period in a person’s life is never included in autobiographies. Chapter One focuses on childhood and growing up. Chapter Two is about college. All of the sudden, Chapter Three is about turning 30, and I’m over here like what the hell happened between Two and Three?
Maybe it should comfort me – it’s showing me that this gray period is so minuscule in its importance that no one even thinks to include it in their books. But at the moment, being a 23-year-old moving back home, it seems pretty damn important to me.
I thought I would have more direction by now, but I still feel as lost as I did on the day of commencement. I just need to take some sort of step.
So. I am moving back to Omaha. I have mixed feelings to say the least. But right now I am sad. I am homesick for the time when I was never homesick. Now, no matter where I go – I am going to feel it.
I write this knowing how fortunate I am. I consider myself unbelievably lucky to be able to call so many places home – to have friends in so many different parts of the world.
But it also sucks.