When I was junior in high school, I decided that I wanted to attend a college in New York City. I wanted to study fashion merchandising, and what better place to do so than one of the major fashion capitals? To some, that may not seem like a big deal, but let me put things into perspective for you. I am from Lubbock, Texas. Cotton farming, cattle driving and rodeoing are prevalent in this region, and not fashion. Almost all of my family lives in or around this city and for 18 years I have lived here too. It seems everyone attends Texas Tech University, generation after generation, especially wide-eyed high school graduates looking to follow in mom and dad's footsteps. Many grandparents attended Tech and are great alumni support for their grandchildren. So, when I told my parents of my plans to move several states away by myself, they were not totally sold on this thought and were more or less against the idea.
After a lot of begging, pleading, convincing and researching colleges that my parents would approve of, I chose The King's College, located in the Financial District of Manhattan. I was overjoyed when I was accepted and could not wait to spread my wings and get out of Texas. Moving day came and went and I was living in a tiny (and I mean tiny) apartment in Brooklyn, New York, alone. I was living my dream. I made close friends and although I was constantly stressed and dirt poor, I was happy.
After only a few months of living in New York, I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes, which is cause for a whole other story. This news came as a shock and I had to adjust my life accordingly. My family and I felt it would be best if I moved back home during this time. So, I finished out my semester at The King's College and then got on a plane to Texas. Even though I knew this was probably the best thing for my health, I was upset and somewhat frustrated about leaving New York. I felt like my dream had been dashed and I was somewhat defensive that I was coming home to the very place I tried so hard to leave. It seemed like my plan had failed and I had failed right along with it. So, if you must move back to your hometown, here are a few things I went through that you can expect as well:
Leaving your friends behind is difficult. This one is a no-brainer, but I honestly did not expect it to be as hard as it actually was. I had bonded with all of these wonderful people who I felt a spiritual connection with and now I had to leave them. It was devastating to some degree. I still stalk my friends' social media accounts and secretly pine for that NYC skyline. We talk on occasion, but it's not the same as being there with them. Hopefully, you'll stay in touch with your friends. I believe this lessens the grieving process that takes place because of the miles between you.
Eventually, you will have to face the "haters" back home. When word spread in my circle of friends and family that I was moving to NYC, many were supportive. However, there were a lot of people telling me that I wouldn't like The Big Apple and that someone was going to mug me. By returning home, it would appear that I was proving them right. Even though I loved NYC (and still do!) and I was never hurt (although someone did try to steal my purse once), I had to face the doubters. I didn't want them to think I was a failure, or worse, make me feel like a failure. Maybe your circumstances are different than mine, but sooner or later you are going to run into someone you'd rather avoid. Just smile, wave hello and say a little prayer that they won't ask too many questions. But most importantly, just because you came back does not make you a failure.
You will have to answer questions, but you do not have to explain yourself. I avoided most of my extended family for quite some time once I was back simply because I did not want to tell multiple people over and over again why I moved back to Lubbock, Texas. It was a painful decision to make and I do not like reliving it's effects. To this day, if I run into someone I haven't seen in a while I get a surprised look and an, "Oh! You're not in New York anymore?" "What happened?" "What are you doing now?" and my personal favorite (note the sarcasm), "It's probably for the best that you came home." My answers are always the same: Yes, I miss NYC. No, I don't know what I am going to do now. No, I do not know if I will attend Texas Tech. Yes, it was a hard decision to make and no, you can't get diabetes from touching the subway rails.
Sometimes, you will find yourself being home-sick. Even though I only lived in my Brooklyn apartment for five months, I consider it my home. Sometimes I still slip up in conversation, calling New York "home" even though I don't live there anymore. I wake up on certain days missing my cramped apartment. I even miss the giant stain on the carpet the person before me had so graciously left. I miss walking down the subway stairs and feeling the breeze as the trains would squeal to a halt. And more often than not, I miss sitting at my favorite cafe with a latte in my hands, just watching the people hurry along the sidewalk. You'll miss your second home because it becomes a part of you and a part of your life you can never forget.
For awhile, after I returned home, I had no idea what was going to be my next step. I didn't know what college to attend, where I was going to work or how to get back out there and make new friends. This may sound a little strange since I had lived in this place for the majority of my life. Let me just say one thing: Not knowing is okay. Other people seemed to be more worried about this than I was. I would get looks of pity while being told what they thought I should be doing. Just relax and give yourself some time to figure things out. Rome was not built in a one day people! Now, does that mean you can chill out at your parents' house and waste your time away? No. Your parents won't put up with that for very long. Believe me, I've tried.
Going off of that last point, you will one day wake up and realize your life is starting to come together. For me, it was just the other day as I was having coffee with a friend. She pointed out that I had recently been promoted at my job (which I love), I knew what I wanted to study (retail management) and I was somehow offered this writing position (shoutout to Emily). It dawned on me that I was actually happy at this point in my life. Doors seemed to be opening and I was no longer weighed down by the fact that I was not living in New York. One day, you will look around and wonder why you did not move home sooner because being home can be pretty dang great sometimes.
Moving to your hometown after you had been dead set on leaving it for good can be a daunting task. Some days you might wonder if you made the right decision and other days it might feel like you never left at all. So, in the end, your hometown is your hometown and hopefully, you will always be welcomed back into the fold as I was.
