Going Home… and other things that feel like going backwards.

Like most 20 somethings, I find myself in an incredibly transient time in my life.  Human beings are not trees.  We are not immobile, stuck where we are planted until the end of our time on earth.

When you move away, the people who are closest to your heart aren’t always the people who are closest to you in proximity.  This can create a kind of time capsule effect.

While you continue to grow, evolve, and morph into adulthood, the people who once walked you through every stage of life, are no longer near enough to bear witness to it.

If you don’t see it, it didn’t happen… right?

It seems as if to keep the peace, you either have to squeeze yourself down to fit back into the tiny egg you were hatched from, or buck against the people who once knew you best.

Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, family sees you through tired lenses. Or tinted ones. How do we reconcile this sad truth that the ones that love you the most aren’t always the ones that know you the best?

Sometimes going home feels like going backwards.  It makes me feel like an 8 year old girl throwing a temper tantrum over not being allowed to read my books at the dinner table, rather than the transformed 20-something that I’ve fought tooth and nail to become. Not yet fully matured, but not that same girl they seem to see.

How do you tell the ones they formed you that since you’ve left their grasp (or escaped it, depending on what kind of relationship you have with them) you’ve continued to mold, but this time at your own hand?

Until next time.

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