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I have moved a very long way from home. This is not a bad thing.
Do you know how old I was when I realized that I didn't belong in my hometown? I was about eight or nine years old, sitting in my third grade classroom when the epiphany hit. I don't recall what was going on at the time, whether it was the bully-of-the-week (I think that was the one I later threw into a wall after he had pulled my chair out from under me- they never got physical after that), or some inane conversation, or hearing about the latest round of layoffs, or the teacher going over how to do fractions for the umpteenth time, but something clicked and I thought, "My God, I have to get out of here!" Unfortunately, in third grade, all you can do is throw yourself into school to keep your grades up and pray your dad gets transferred to Florida. And that's pretty much what I did- that moment and the ones like it that followed are probably the reason why I graduated co-valedictorian, rather than any difference in intelligence between me and my classmates. I was motivated by my perception that the only way I'd be successful, the only way I'd ever have a shot at being happy, was to get the hell out.
Nine years is a damn long time to know you're in the wrong place, and not be able to do anything about it.
I don't keep in touch with anyone from my hometown that isn't related to me. Sure, I have a Facebook page (that I'm not going to link here, but if you're dedicated enough you'll find it), and there's a good amount of people that I knew from high school, but I don't really talk to them. To me, they are just names and faces floating out there in cyberspace, and the only reason that I even know them was some freak accident of geography. Sad? Maybe to some, but not really to me. I found my tribe when I got to college and grad school, and as spread-out as we are now, I'm closer to them than I ever would have been to anyone had I stayed closer to home.
So what's the point of this? I'm going home for Christmas next Saturday after I walk at graduation. I'm happy to see my family again, but I'm really not thrilled to have to drive five hours to a place that I never wanted to be in the first place. The only place I care about going is my mom's kitchen.
Mom wishes I moved closer to home. While this spot isn't my first choice in terms of livability (that would have been the DC area), I think I'm happier in Harrisburg than if I had stayed home (which really wasn't an option considering the job market) or in one of the neighboring cities. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision, but since I've been thinking about it for well over a decade, it's not too hard to convince myself.
Do you know how old I was when I realized that I didn't belong in my hometown? I was about eight or nine years old, sitting in my third grade classroom when the epiphany hit. I don't recall what was going on at the time, whether it was the bully-of-the-week (I think that was the one I later threw into a wall after he had pulled my chair out from under me- they never got physical after that), or some inane conversation, or hearing about the latest round of layoffs, or the teacher going over how to do fractions for the umpteenth time, but something clicked and I thought, "My God, I have to get out of here!" Unfortunately, in third grade, all you can do is throw yourself into school to keep your grades up and pray your dad gets transferred to Florida. And that's pretty much what I did- that moment and the ones like it that followed are probably the reason why I graduated co-valedictorian, rather than any difference in intelligence between me and my classmates. I was motivated by my perception that the only way I'd be successful, the only way I'd ever have a shot at being happy, was to get the hell out.
Nine years is a damn long time to know you're in the wrong place, and not be able to do anything about it.
I don't keep in touch with anyone from my hometown that isn't related to me. Sure, I have a Facebook page (that I'm not going to link here, but if you're dedicated enough you'll find it), and there's a good amount of people that I knew from high school, but I don't really talk to them. To me, they are just names and faces floating out there in cyberspace, and the only reason that I even know them was some freak accident of geography. Sad? Maybe to some, but not really to me. I found my tribe when I got to college and grad school, and as spread-out as we are now, I'm closer to them than I ever would have been to anyone had I stayed closer to home.
So what's the point of this? I'm going home for Christmas next Saturday after I walk at graduation. I'm happy to see my family again, but I'm really not thrilled to have to drive five hours to a place that I never wanted to be in the first place. The only place I care about going is my mom's kitchen.
Mom wishes I moved closer to home. While this spot isn't my first choice in terms of livability (that would have been the DC area), I think I'm happier in Harrisburg than if I had stayed home (which really wasn't an option considering the job market) or in one of the neighboring cities. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision, but since I've been thinking about it for well over a decade, it's not too hard to convince myself.
