"End of an Era"

I made the decision to move home about three-four months ago. Yes, move back in with my parents, while I apply for grad school. The decision was one of the heaviest and most strangest decisions I had ever made, and thus even to this day, the day before I leave, my heart is aching and protesting against my decision.

I made the decision to leave as far as I could once I graduated from high school. My parents had been encouraging me to go to UC Riverside or community college, so I could stay close to home. Being the first out of all my siblings and cousins to go to college, I suppose they were a bit anxious about me leaving the nest and going out into the "real world," away from the bubble of high school. Being my rebellious and strong-headed self, I was fighting with my parents all the time, and couldn't wait to leave home for college. I chose San Diego as my new home, the farthest school I was accepted to. I packed all my things and left as eagerly as I did on the first day of kindergarten- no parents, the learning-is-fun mentality, and a whole world of new friends. 

Strangely enough, the first year in college I became very homesick. It was the first time I was truly away from home, and I ended up going home often (every other weekend I suppose) to revel in the comfort of being with my family and my younger siblings, Saturday morning cartoons, and warm Inland Empire weather, a huge contrast to the cooler San Diego weather. 

Once I started getting more involved on campus, holding club positions and jobs and finding my group of lifelong college friends, I started visiting home a lot less. I realized that the times I went home I always felt like I was missing out on things back in San Diego- Fourth of July BBQs, visiting breweries, food adventures, and random inside jokes that were eventually explained to me but without the magic of being there and present. My parents became surprised that I was visiting home less often, and often tried to persuade me to come back. 

When I graduated from college, I still couldn't leave San Diego. I had a boyfriend in the longest relationship I had ever been in, and all my friends became part of my San Diego family. I knew how to get to my favorite restaurants, I had memories of many places over the past several years, and it just felt like...home. I struggled to make earnings to afford my San Diego home, working a few part time jobs, eventually working a full time job in a field I wasn't passionate about, and then ended up taking the leap and getting certified as a nursing assistant- a move I had been trying to make for a year but could not afford to until recently. I jumped into the next job, hoping that this was it- my job would sustain me for the next year while I applied to grad school. However, I ended up being more unhappy, my hours kept getting cut, and I realized I was not able to afford applying to grad school.

I had a decision to make- stay in San Diego and live paycheck to paycheck and possibly move my application period to the next year (when I could hopefully afford grad school apps), or move back home and continue with my journey to grad school. I felt torn. After six or seven years in San Diego, it had felt more like home to me than my home back in the Inland Empire. I knew the freeways, the areas, I knew where to get food when I was craving it, and I had friends to go out and explore the world with. Back at home, I realized I was getting lost when I was driving back from places, and I knew almost nothing about the small town I had grown up in. 

I finally sat down and had a heart-to-heart talk with my parents. They encouraged my decision, and tried to point out the positives- I could save up money, go travel, apply for grad school, spend more time with my siblings, have real cable TV, find a better paying job in healthcare, and not be constantly stressed and anxious all the time. I went back to San Diego and told my closest friends that I had decided to move home. 

It didn't seem real at first. I wasn't too concerned about moving home, and my life continued almost as normal. My roommate suggested I make a bucket list, but my heart truly didn't feel like making a bucketlist, so it wasn't made until we sat down together and brainstormed. I only thought of a few things- The Farmer's Market, scenic places, and a few of my favorite restaurants. Funny enough, through the past few months we ended up adding many more places to the bucketlist- a Padres Game, Sea World, etc- than I had imagined. The past few months seemed to fly by, and it all seemed to suddenly stop on the Saturday before my move-out. We went to a Padres game, walked around and tried different foods and drinks, and had a wonderful evening out with my closest friends and roommates. During the drive there, a couple of my friends were talking about going camping during the summer. My heart lurched at the conversation, realizing that I wouldn't be there for that event, and possibly many more adventures to come. That night, I realized that this was my last weekend in San Diego. Sunday I finished studying for my GRE, and I felt almost depressed, wanting to be left alone but also yearning for interaction. Eventually I snapped out of my depression and went to the gym with my roommate. While on the treadmill, my roommate turned to me and said, "This is the end of an era, isn't it?" I just nodded, not knowing what to say, but in my mind and heart I knew it was true. I had lived almost a fourth of my life away from home in this city, and I had lived it all with my roommates- from freshman year in the dorms to moving to our first apartment off-campus, to graduating with our degrees and living in a house together, we had been there for each other since the beginning. 

To this very moment, my heart still aches and protests my decision, but I know deep down that this is the right decision, at least right now. All this time, I thought that I had fallen in love with the city of San Diego, but I realized that it wasn't the city I was attached to, but rather the memories, experiences, and friendships that were created during my time here. As a friend told me, it isn't the location necessarily, but rather the friendships and connections that make a place meaningful. 

For some strange reason, I have always had trouble with optimism and trust in others and myself. But as my parents and many other people have told me, I just need to have trust and faith that my decision is correct, and have faith in that my friends and family will be there for me, and that I can be there for them. As a friend pointed out, San Diego will always be there, but friends will eventually move away and pursue their own careers and dreams. as such, I shouldn't worry about where I live or where I am going, but rather measure my happiness based on my goals, dreams, and own emotions. Distance is only a quantitative measurement separating people from one another, but true feelings and emotions are not limited by time or space.

As such, even though it is an "end of an era" of my San Diego chapter, there are many other chapters of adventures in the future that I must look forward to. And I will look forward to these new chapters, knowing that I still share love and companionship of those most close to me.