And it’s making me uncomfortable.
This is mostly because I need to vocalize some confusion. I’m not looking for solutions, because...well first, it’s not really a problem. But also, there isn’t any solution besides “consider what you have to do for yourself, and do it,” which I evaluate constantly. Thank you for listening, and any commiseration, thoughts, suggestions on how to frame things differently, and opinions ARE welcome.
Somehow, I’m simultaneously home and homesick. I don’t know that I’ve experienced this combination of feelings in this way before. I’ve lived away for a bit over a decade. I haven’t lived in the same place, and where I live now isn’t my least favorite place that I’ve lived. I don’t LOVE it, but there’s enough in my life that I do love. I love my friends, I love the fun shit I do. I love my boyfriend. I’m settled where I am now. I don’t particularly want to be settled there? But it is where my life is at this moment. I’ve weighed pros and cons of uprooting at this point, and ultimately, it’s not something I want to do.
Except, I do. Sometimes I am so homesick for the ocean and the mountains that it hurts. I get homesick for my favorite city here, a place I might not be able to visit this trip, and it’s tearing at me.
I’m home. I never want to leave, and I can’t wait to get away. I don’t understand it. The connection I have is magnetic. It draws me closer, and the way I feel is best described with a bunch of hippie dippie musings mixed with seventh-grade poetry metaphors (if you need an example, please revisit my previous sentence). However, I enjoy the privacy and independence that a thousand mile gap affords me. I feel pressured and smothered when I come home. It’s probably simply that I’m missed and loved and my family just needs to SEE me but I feel suffocated. Saying that would break my mother’s heart, which is of course adding guilt to everything going on in my head. I don’t feel guilty when I’m 1000 miles away.
I’d move back here if PollyDude could as well. He can’t, but if he could, I don’t think he would. The pace here doesn’t suit him, he’d have a hard time finding work in his specialty. I’m settled and my life is out there, but I know I could adjust. I’ve done it multiple times in the past ten years. However, I don’t want to adjust without him. If we were ever to break up, I’d be back here in short order. I’m malleable; I can adapt to anything that is thrown at me.
That doesn’t make me feel better right now.
This musing was sparked by something bigger going on, which is too jumbled in my head to consider writing about right now, and if you made it this far, well. Thank you. But that would be entirely too long. After I sleep, my thoughts may be more organized, and I can connect things, but maybe not.