Hello! It’s been a couple months. Luckily for me, not quite as big as the distance between the two posts before this. Tae speaking.
I moved home from California. Relationships are a fickle thing – one day you can feel completely satisfied, and the next… well, completely dissatisfied. The ending of my relationship signaled the end of my short-lived stay in that dreaded land with no snow. I realized some “reflections” when I was packing my things, but I’ll share only a few with you tonight.
The first is so simple it seems cliche to say it: time is valuable. My reasoning behind this? Imagine a place where you are content and happy to live, yet for some reason, you don’t feel permanent. I often reflected on the realization that I had moved away from my home, my friends, and my family, and was now at the mercy of the person I had handed my life to. Someone who was not willing to do the same for me. I moved away from Montana for 11 months, and every single day left me in some sort of pain – no matter the intensity – of not seeing my family. I came back, but I didn’t feel like I was back. All I could think was, “wow, everyone changed while I was gone,” before I realized that I had changed as well.
I think a part of me felt a sense of betrayal. How could they change without me? How could they go on living like I wasn’t a part of their life anymore? Those thoughts plagued me for while, before I finally came to the conclusion that time does not revolve around me. My family had to move on without me, because I wasn’t there. I don’t know if they felt the pain of separation that I felt, if they hurt thinking about me… but I wasted a year of my life in California. There were few positive things that came of my being there. I grew up mentally quite a bit, I made friends (which I hadn’t done since grade school), and I discovered more of who I am. I know this all seems incredibly deep or cheesy, but I learned that time is unforgiving. It doesn’t wait for anyone. The thought is terrifying, if I’m going to be honest. One of my greatest fears is to be left alone, my family dead. Morbid, right? I know. It’s an enormous fear, and yet I still moved away, where I couldn’t be with them like I used to. I know now that time is nothing to be messed with, it’ll put you on your ass without a second thought. I’ve promised myself I would make the most of the time that has been given to me. (Lord of the Rings partial-quote) The experience was priceless, but every great thing has its poison.
The second is the after effect. The recovery. Finding a way to go back to the person you were when you remember being happy, without leaving behind the part of you that kept you happy while you were miserable. I let go of a lot of things in my relationship, things that I loved to do, because I felt they were making me less valuable to the person I was with. I didn’t read anymore, didn’t write, listen to the music I like, and a couple other things. Now while I did abandon those things with a heavy weight in my heart, I learned how to live without them by doing other things. I kept myself busy with work, or I picked up shows on Netflix I never would have watched. I found new ways to deal with my stress, some of those methods were unconventional and something I never would have done if I had stayed in Montana.
Now, being out of California, the routine I had gotten used to made me feel very out of place back home. I abandoned a lot of them because I could go back to my reading, writing, anime-watching self; however, I still have problems figuring a way out of the maze I made for myself in my head. Things you did for the person you were with, or learned, remind you of them every time you catch yourself thinking of the mold you formed yourself into. I picked up a love for cars, which isn’t uncommon, but something I never gave a second glance at before. For weeks after the end of that relationship, every beautiful car I saw reminded me of him. It’s difficult getting past those times. I would say “wait for the light at the end of the tunnel,” but I haven’t reached that point yet. I don’t even feel like I’m in a tunnel, but as though I’ve fallen into an empty well with no way of escape but to call for help and hope somebody hears as they pass by. Another reason I’m grateful for my family, who has helped me get back into the groove of things.
Now that I’ve thoroughly talked your ear off, I’ll apologize if any of this seems silly. Sometimes my thoughts boil inside my brain until I can’t hold them anymore. I’m sure you know what that’s like.
I’m so glad to be back home. I missed my mountains, my rainy days, my family and friends so much. I hope to get back in the swing of things soon.
Have a wonderful day, everyone.