the short storyThe only way to react to pseudo-moving out.
the long storySo I’ve mentioned that I moved out to Vancouver to be closer to school. I usually go home on the weekend, and sometimes it’s harder to go back.

Back where, you may ask? To be honest, both places.

I like living near school. I like that my commute is max fifteen minutes and I don’t have to be on public transit for a fifth of my waking hours. I like my roommates and cooking for myself.

But I miss my family. Sometimes I’m too lazy to cook or do my laundry. I am hyper-aware of what I’m doing because I’m afraid of revealing something embarrassing or invading someone’s personal space or getting in the way of someone else.

In short, while I live there for most of my time, I don’t feel like I’m home. I don’t feel like myself.

And then I go home for the weekend and I’m relaxed. I’m comfortable and not constantly tracking my movements.

But eventually I’ll start feeling congested. We have a rather large house, but I never really feel alone with my family around. And while I love the environment I have with my family, I start to long for a place that I can just close off and be by myself.

And then, selfishly, I want to go back to Vancouver so the only person I have to worry about is me. Where I have my own room and my own space and oddly, I can be myself.

And thus the conundrum.

I know, on some level, that who I am is a sum of how I behave, think, and feel in all places and at all times and in all situations. But because knowing me means knowing me in all places at all times and I am stuck in the time and place I am in, wherever I am, I’m wondering why I don’t feel like myself.

One of the definitions I use for home is where I feel I can comfortably be myself. And maybe that’s what I’m really searching for, a place to be myself, not my family home and not the place in Vancouver.

And maybe that’s why I feel good once I move back to one or the other “homes”, at least initially. It’s a change of scenery, it’s an opportunity to get a better idea of the me that exists when I’m in this place. But once I stay for too long, I want to see myself in another place where I feel more myself.

I hope one day I’ll find the proper anchor. I don’t want to lose the want to wander, but I don’t want to float around. I want to know who I am, but also continue to build on what “I” means.

I want to find home.


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