I am consumed by grief all of the time. (Fun). For people and places and moments, often way before they’ve disappeared. Often for people and places and moments that WON’T. I’ve rehearsed funeral speeches for people I don’t even speak to anymore. And sometimes, it’s grief for myself; who I was, who I am, who I could have been. Instead of celebrating the infinite possibilities of life, I sit and make myself sad over things that will never happen. It’s exhausting. Anyone else exhausted?
Being so aware of growth feels like a double edged sword. On the one hand, I love to acknowledge how far I’ve come- hills I’ve climbed, adversity I’ve faced, music I’ve discovered etc etc etc. On the other, I’m always kind of sad about letting past me go. Or, sometimes, the realisation that she’s gone without me even noticing. Because while this new version of myself might serve the life I live now (I will NEVER use the term ‘thriving’. I don’t think I’ve ever ‘thrived’. Throve?), it means I can’t always fit into boxes I still desperately want to sit and hide in.
It almost feels like outgrowing your comfiest pair of joggers. They weren’t your best, nor your most fashionable, but they were dependent, familiar, something you could easily slip into. And then you go to try them on and they feel…wrong. They’re just not comfortable anymore and, WORSE, they don’t even FIT. Once you’ve lost that, once you realise you’re trying to squeeze into a pair of joggers to absolutely no avail, what do you do? Where do you go to find that comfort? Jeans? No. So what, you try to shrink yourself down until they fit, and risk hurting yourself in the process? You try to alter them to make them bigger and completely ruin the stitching? Or, do you find a new pair, one that fits perfectly but still has that shop-floor smell; is still kind of plasticky, and hasn’t been worn in? Do you buy them, with the fear that they’re never going to feel the same as your old pair? That the comfort you once felt will never again be replicated? Or (and sometimes this is worse), do you hold onto your old pair and slowly realise that maybe they weren’t as comfortable as you remember? Maybe one ankle cuff is slightly tighter than the other, or the pockets are fake, or there’s an annoying tag you never thought to get rid of? And then where are you? Who are you? Because eventually, while you’re so consumed by which joggers you should pick, you realise you’ve ended up with no joggers at all and now your legs are getting cold. And sometimes you think fuck it, maybe I should move someplace where I don’t even need joggers. Somewhere I can wear shorts every day and feel the sun on my skin and relish in the freedom that comes with three-quarters-less material.
Going home for Christmas raises the jogger dilemma for me, every time, without fail. Two minutes in my parents’ house and I’m left out of sorts, wondering who I am, who I was, who I could or should or might have been. It gives me chance to rest and with that rest comes a flood of mini identity crises that hang over my holiday like little obnoxious clouds. (Being forced to sleep in your childhood bedroom will do that to you, I guess.) I feel like everyone talks about the weird limbo between Christmas and New Years where no one knows what day it is and there’s nothing good on the telly, yet they don’t talk about the personal limbo you feel when your ‘home’ and your home become two separate places. I find when I’m at uni I refer to my parents’ house as home, and when I’m staying with them the opposite, and ultimately neither of those decisions ever really feel right. I think the thing I find difficult- as someone constantly on a personal mission to understand and rationalise every emotion I experience- is that this feeling is impossible to pin down. I am not a person who enjoys the phrase ‘two things can both be true at once’ because I WANT TO KNOW WHICH ONE. I want to know why I miss my hometown but simultaneously hate being there. I want to know why I crave living back with my parents but am reminded after less than an hour why I moved out in the first place. And, equally, I want to know why my new home, where my friends and my boyfriend and a new version of myself that I LOVE are, never quite feels right either. And this is where my problem lies. If I don’t feel at home in the small town I grew up, where clearly my ties to it are rooted in nostalgia (and a love of hills), but I feel equally as lost in my ‘new’ home…then where do I belong? Where do I fit?
If you can’t tell, I am a complete homebody. I have a deep desire to fit somewhere, to feel comfortable, to have a place that is mine that I know is the right place for me. And I don’t have that. And I hate it.
Imagine if I just left this here and was like, that’s it! I hate my life and I’m miserable and I don’t know where to live and it’s cold pls help me!!
I’m not gonna do that because it isn’t true. I DO hate this weird feeling, I DO hate not being 100% certain in who I am. However. Sometimes I forget to use my brain and get too weighed down in my existential crises when actually, this feeling is fine, because I do understand it. I’ve felt it before! I felt it the first time I knew I’d outgrown my hometown and needed to pack up and move across the country. And I think the reason I’ve been struggling so much recently is because I thought that move would be it. I was leaving for my dream city where I was gonna spend the rest of my life and things would be perfect forever. Turns out…I think I’ve just outgrown this place too. Which is okay! It’s okay to realise that somewhere or something that was perfect for you no longer serves the same purpose. That you don’t quite get what you need from it anymore. If anything, I’m not surprised it doesn’t feel 100% right anymore- I have changed SO drastically since I moved here three years ago, that outgrowing it was almost inevitable. And yes, maybe I didn’t think you could outgrow an entire city the way you can a tiny town, nor did I think it would happen so soon, but at the end of the day, who cares?? That is not a serious issue! I am happy and healthy and know amazing people and have had a great time! And it’s not like I even want to leave just yet- I love where I live and would be super sad to move away anytime soon. I just don’t think it’s my forever the way me three years ago thought it would be, and that’s fine! Instead of dwelling on all the sad parts, the ‘oh but I wish it had turned out the way I expected it to’, I think I need to get a grip and realise life is SO long. I WANT to live in and discover as many places as I possibly can. I want to zoom up and down the country and all around the world and not stay rooted in one place forever. And whether that’s an impossible task who knows, but what I do know is maybe I shouldn’t be putting so much expectation on a pair of old joggers that live in the back of my wardrobe and won’t be coming out any time soon.
subscribe below for wildflowers to be sent directly to you (for free!!) °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
ugh as a first year uni student i feel this so hard but haven't seen anyone else put it into words- nowhere truly feels like home anymore as much as i want it to, it sort of feels like home is wherever i'm not. i'm so glad i'm not the only one having this existential crisis!!!
It’s always so heartening to hear other people write about the same feelings that I’ve had (…and still have), because it reminds me that all of this is universal, to an extent. Loved hearing your spin on the grief of feeling unmoored between two places and never feeling quite wholly yourself in either one. Love love love always. 🥰