This little adventure I’ve been on since deciding to leave the place I’ve lived for the last five years of my life has not been easy. Falling into a routine has been troubling—it seems pointless. I am feeling unsettled, unearthed, and far from grounded. My place here feels temporary.
Or so I say…as this is all still merely hypothetical.
I really am banking on this Colorado program, even though I am consistently riveted with guilt over beginning my job here, bonding with all sorts of people who so desperately need consistent interaction, and just as suddenly bolting from it.
At the same time, though, I am extremely enticed by the opportunity to get to know these familiar places on a whole new level. I get a charge out of discovering new attractions and fresh crannies to spend all my free time. I absolutely feed on the chance to go out and get a never-before-seen glimpse of the social scene here. It’s terrible and trying, yet is completely enticing because I find myself forced to make new acquaintances or relearn the folks that I never really knew all that well in the first place… I adore this freedom found in being routineless.
Home really is new to me now. And Northfield is even more foreign. Even more promising. I could absolutely be happy there for an extended period of time. Especially if I really let myself open up and fall in love with life. If I really allowed myself to commit to creating a life here—new friends, new habits, new weekend plans, and new fallback plans.
I haven’t committed to allowing myself such a privilege yet, however.
I’m protecting myself. Buffering others. Still getting used to the idea. I have to admit it has been far too easy to subconsciously convince myself that this is temporary. The kind of ‘temporary’ that I really understand this as being-- deep down, I mean—is something as simply and brief as some sort of school break or something. That’s all that I’ve known home as for the past five years, and that’s all it seems like now. It’s awfully hard for me to believe Sioux Falls is actually someone else’s now. I’m not sure that’ll hit me for a good, long while. I can hear myself say it as much as I want, but I means nothing. Not yet.
And really, in the oddest way, leaving has been a relief. I needed to go on exploring and needed to be forced out of that comfort zone. I see that once I dig through the layers of longing, loneliness, and adoration for those I had to leave there. I miss those loves terribly—the people, places, the sights and emotions that that glorious place brings out of me—time in and out I am only a few memories from tears.
But they are tears that dry up with each new distraction. And I’m really good at creating distractions for myself.
So, I suppose, that’s my crutch at the moment: Creating a new niche for myself. It’s exciting, filled with promise, and 100% new. I love the process. But I know that it’s keeping me from processing all the rest. Such is life, I suppose…? When you’re this skilled at forming your own coping mechanisms and disguising them as healthy outlets or have the ability to (truly) convince your-oh-so-gullable-self that you aren’t manipulating the situation’s loose ends to make this easier… well, it makes the whole scenario seem almost…fun.
You see, in my little bubble here, there doesn’t seem to be much pain left to deal with—for myself or anyone else. Even when I hear from friends claiming they miss me, I take a moment to turn my frown upside-down, but just as quickly put up some sort of protective barrier by telling myself that they felt that way for a split second and have since forgotten.
This situation has the same sort of feel as coming home from a foreign country does: you know that other life and all the variables that you so adored within it continue…but because they are not here, now, it is a hard reality to maintain.
The whole thing remains so mysterious. So distant. A bit numb.
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