I visited home for Christmas. My first time back since moving three years ago. Notice how I refer to Michigan as home. That's no slip of the tongue. Not to do Hawaii an injustice, but I've always felt tentative here and I've finally realized that's no way to live life. It's not really something that's going to change either. Hell, I still live partially out of my suitcase. I hold off on buying expensive bulky items (furniture, car, etc...) because of the unspoken knowledge that I'll just have to sell it or ship it when I get fed up and move back. The future constantly consumes me as I get older and what I see of my life here, I don't like.
For two weeks I was again immersed in my own world, feeling as though the last three years on this rock have been some sort of alternate reality. Not dreamlike, but just like I pushed pause on my Michigan life to go live another one, only to return and hit play. And when I did, I felt as if I found the me that got left behind three years ago. To avoid cheesy cliches I won't say I found myself, but there is an assured confidence and comfort that comes along with being surrounded by your own history. I've certainly been no wallflower here in Hawaii, but the majority of the time I present the generic version of myself for others. Edit the quirks, check the opinions, make sure conversation is relevant. Back home, I have the balls to throw myself out there, judgment be damned.
As my flight approached the city lights of Honolulu earlier this month, I realized the dread I felt in line at security in Detroit's airport was not merely due to a reluctance to say goodbye to my parents...again. It was a distinct dread of returning back to my life here. And it's only getting worse. There is something life-affirming in a realization so strong. I pity those who complacently go through life. Knowing what I need and want to do is comforting and gives purpose, even if making it happen won't be easy. It may suck but at least I'm not lost.
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