You Can Always Go Home

Bay-Area-real-estate-The-Registry1In 2 weeks I’m going home. I’d say it was a sudden decision, and in a way it was; but in reality, over the past 2 years I’ve really struggled in more ways than one. Truthfully I’m 25 and I’m not really making it work. You know the phrase, “fake it till you make it”, well after more than a few months I’m kind of done faking. I’m trying and failing at the things I’ve thought since I was a child, I was made for. My type A personality has made it impossible to live my life off book, and as a result, I’m always trying to adhere to something that is never quite working out.

Of course I never thought my twenties would be easy either. I yearned to be an adult, to move on the part in life where things are figured out and stable, but I knew the journey to get there would be anything but smooth. Yet as I’ve rounded the corner on my later twenties I saw some of my friends start to have that. With every passing month there I was, staring at the face of someone who had it more together than me and it makes me feel enormously unqualified.

The truth is my career is stalled, my friendships, or at least most of them, have gone or feel hallow. I desperately want to travel and go to grad school but I feel like I’m constantly drowning in more bills than I can handle and mix that with, what feels like, a never ending parade of toxic relationships hasme more fatigued than I think I’m suppose to feel at this age.

I knew people who had done it before. Twenty-somethings drawn back to their parents house to “reevaluate” their life decisions, but I never thought I’d be one of them. In my head a small voice keeps whispering, “you failed, you failed at being an adult” and the shame of having to pack up my fairly independent life and move home is debilitating and humiliating to someone who’s thrived off always having a plan.

But there it is, I don’t have a plan – every plan I had was somehow turned upside down and more than I feel like a failure, I feel as if life itself has let me down. So why even bother? My loosely based plan to save money and then run away to see the world is my hail mary pass. I wonder if I can’t even do this than what’s left? IS this adulthood? Is this is it? This is what I waited for my whole childhood? Isn’t this the part where I’m suppose to live happily ever after and make sure to take lots of pictures of it?

I feel lied to, yet past my anger there is a feeling of relief, that at least for a little while I can stop trying and take stock of the things that are going horribly wrong and fix them. For a short time I get to go back to square one, a place I haven’t been in a very long time, in a place I haven’t stayed in a very long time. IF everything I’ve done and become has lead up to this point, doesn’t it make sense to go back to where it all began?

Leaving Denver is as bittersweet to me as any decision in my whole life. I didn’t want to come here, my ex and I were suppose to get jobs in Fort Collins, which turned into me getting a job here in Denver. We were also suppose to come together, a precursor to being engaged after almost three years together. But I came alone, to a place I knew no one, by myself for a job that paid $13.50 and hour. I made friends, sharpened skills, and built a life as a person just learning who they were. It went well, for a while – it was work but somehow I got it to follow my lead as I controlled it in the direction I wanted to go. Then I got depressed. Months and months of steady depression took a lot of what I worked for away. My firm grip on my life turned into it dragging me and throwing me again and again up against a wall that only closed in tighter. Every time I tried to get up I found myself back on the ground, always two moves behind. Denver is filled with a lot of big steps for me but in my feeling for it now I can’t help but feel that I’m leaving behind a lot of sadness, a lot of weight.

I tried my best to starve off the inevitable. I think of the small things I’m giving up in moving home, and it breaks my heart. But somewhere in my gut I feel like it’s the right thing, it’s the right move. Instead of dwelling in how far off from my “plan” this feels, for once in a long time I don’t know what the next move is, but this feel right.

And that’s what I’m taking away from all this. I have a better sense of who I am after two years here. After some time, the things that broke me here will heal and it will somehow represent a turn in my life even though I’m not yet sure how. What I do know is that for long time I felt like the foundation under my feet was constantly shifting and keeping me from getting a good balance. But for right now the balance for me is home, because you can always go home.