I unfortunately lived inside my thoughts most of the time. I drank a lot of wine. I felt a silent screaming that I did not think I could share with anyone without causing a huge and unforgettable family feud. I escaped for short stints to the shower, the only place I was alone (I was even sharing a bed). I got frustrated and angry at myself knowing I was looking forward to getting back to San Francisco.
The last night we left and went back to my parent’s house. I felt some relief just to get back to a somewhat familiar place. As much as I complained about no one being interested in my life, on my last night there it was suddenly: “Are you happy?” “Do you plan to stay there forever?” “Is your job what you thought it would be?” “Are you going to marry this guy?” Ouch.
I know they meant well. I know they just wanted to do their thing as parents and mark off some check marks on the life checklist. I know at the end of the day they have no idea what it’s like to be in my shoes. But, these are true anxiety triggers, questions I spend my days trying not to focus on or pretend to know the answers to. These types of questions have always been asked, starting from when we graduated from college: “What do you want to do with your life?” They have historically made us feel uncomfortable because we don’t know the answers. I flew back home asking the questions back to myself, unnecessarily turning up the stress dials. Driving in from the airport, I had a strong desire to be in my apartment with my dog and my boyfriend, where I felt at ease. And, that is when it hit me: “home” was no longer that. I had officially reached the stage in my life where the present had become more defining than any previous image in my childhood bedroom or in the eyes of my parents or siblings It was both a freeing and displacing discovery.
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