I used to hate coming home. I know that hate is a “strong word” but it was never something that I looked forward to, and more often than not something I dreaded. Coming home meant dragging my shit back and forth between houses, feeling left out while hanging with my friends and feeling much more lonely than I ever did at school.

That all changed this summer. For some reason, this summer has made me fall in love with being “home” all over again, and I’m actually willing to call it that again. I’ve always felt that my friends were my real family, and this summer has only proven that to be true. When I chose a school 2200 miles away, I did so without reservation about leaving this place behind. I was looking forward to starting over in a new place, and making my own home. Now, as graduation draws near (I know the next two years will fly by faster than I can imagine) I’m starting to wish I hadn’t made the decision so quickly.

I’ve earnestly enjoyed being here this summer, and it’s not because of my parents. If I could, I would move into my own apartment and get away from the constant arguing about money, time and image, but right now that’s just not an option. Something about this summer, coupled with my last year at school, has made me appreciate being in a place where people know me for who I really am, and I don’t feel like I have to defend myself to anyone. After 13 years here and 2 years away, I finally feel like this is where I belong.

So thank you for that.

I often wish there was a way to show couples filing for divorce exactly what they’re doing to their families, and more importantly, their children. Here I am, twenty years old, and I’m still struggling and dealing with the repercussions of a choice my parents made eleven years ago.
Perhaps the worst part of it all is that I have no idea what a healthy relationship looks like. So here I am, trying to figure out what I want out of life and love, and I don’t know if I’m doing it right or I’m walking the opposite direction. What doesn’t seem to help is that when I start to freak out about what’s going on in my own relationship, I look to those around me for examples. Yet, no one seems to be in the same boat I am, mostly because my friends aren’t the same as me in a lot of relational ways, if that makes any sense. I’m not looking for a boyfriend whom I’m infatuated with and sucks all of my free time out of me. It’s not that all of my friends are necessarily that way, but for a lot of them, their significant other is their everything, and that’s just not how I am. And I don’t think that’s the case because of the particular relationship that I’m in, I just think that’s how I am in general. In a lot of ways, I’ve been forced to grow up fending for myself, and that independent spirit doesn’t die just because I’ve finally found someone that I can depend on. And I have, and I really appreciate that he’s there when I need him, and we’re both strong enough to have other things going on in life that don’t require the other person, but I guess I just wish I knew what I was doing. Because I don’t, and I feel bad putting his heart at stake while I try to figure out how the hell it all works.