After a particularly heavy conversation with my sister last week (shenanigans, life and heartache covered in an eight minute work break), I thought a lot about what it really means to come into my own. I was homesick during my entire college experience. Even throughout my first year of work. And it wasn't because I was disappointed or didn't like where I was living or anything. On the other hand, I always woke up (and still wake up) every single day with a profound appreciation and excitement for life. I love experiencing the other side of college. I think I've realized, and been trying so hard to accept, that my family and I will never live in the same house again. Or the same town for that matter. It's almost funny how hard it's been for me to realize this is the new normal. Growing up is pushing away the intense desire to sleep in your childhood bed and eat dinner with your immediate family every night. It's taking the time to make phone calls and send emails and connect with the people that mean the most to you. It's finding a family of sorts in the new city you live in. It's plastering your apartment and cubicle with pictures of your family. It means distracting yourself with new adventures and realizing you hadn't thought about your fam bam for a slice of time... and that's ok. Sometimes it even means missing out on family events and birthdays.
I'm lucky that my family and I are all in California for the time being. Our time together will be spent during holidays, weekend trips and long dinners. And that's ok. I think realizing what this growing up process really means has helped me navigate its intricacies and ambiguous alleys. A definition has been shifted. But considering how awesome life is, I think I can accept it enough. Don't be offended though if I choose a weekend with my fam over playtime in SF :)
|I'd rather have a good life than a perfect one. Via.|