Going Home Again

Today I was reminded of past memories from Facebook. Popping up on my feed was a series of pictures posted 9 years ago. We had moved from Boston to San Diego. The cross-country move was something I hadn't contemplated. I'm not one to live in the past. Returning to San Diego felt like revisiting the past. I had become a city dweller. I loved not owning a car, living in the hustle of the city and it's wealth of history. I never wanted to be part of suburbia, bedroom communities and strip malls. The reality of spending hours of my life in car commuting to work is cringe-worthy. 

The decision was made quickly, within two weeks from the time the original idea came up. It was having a child that made me reassess. Childcare in the city was crazy expensive. Schools in city proper would be either private school or moving from my beloved adopted North End neighborhood. Winters meant lots of planning to keep kids active and entertained. I had lots of friends, but no family. I found this to be the deciding factor. For everyone it is different. I was raised without family close by. I missed out of the stories of cousins hanging out, relationships with Grandparents. For me, I missed having those close ties and fond memories that defined my childhood. Besides, growing up in San Diego was a positive experience.

It was hard to leave, but not as hard as I thought because I was excited about the possibilities ahead. Coming home gave me strength to leave an unhealthy relationship because there is something undeniable about the mirror 'home' provides. We can't lie to those who really know us the best. 2018 will mark a decade since I made the decision to go home. Three friends from my Boston days have moved here, and I am still close with several others. I have landed a role at a company that matched how appreciated and valued I felt in Boston at Partners Healthcare. I consider myself blessed and fortunate to have created strong friendships and a great community.

I can see my fear about coming home wasn't about the past, rather I was afraid it meant defeat.  Fearing I would wash away all the growth and experience. Nearly a decade later I know that I followed my path to explore who I wanted to be, about discovering my likes and dislikes. It was my need for self-determination. My fear was unfounded. I look at the photo by the pier, holding the Dude. I know now that making that decision to go back home was the ultimate act of self-determination. It was the second best decision I made in my life, next to becoming a mother. 

Wishing everyone peace and love.