Starting Over in Your Hometown

Well, it has officially been a month since I moved back to my hometown. And within that month, I think I have cried all but about three days. I’m not kidding… 

When you move away from home to a new city, in a new state, with a new culture, miles of possibility surround you. It is exhilarating, nerve wracking, and overwhelming all at once. The emotions ebb and flow around all the moments you take in and experience. And then all the sudden, it has been three years, and you are deliberating in your mind on whether you stay where you are, or you pack up your life and move back home for a job opportunity you’ve always wanted. A part of you wants to remain in that now not so new city, where you’ve formed a support system, a family of people, and a career that you thrive at. The people you surround yourself with know the real you, the you after a lot of growth and hardship, the you with all masks off. No judgement, no expectations based on the past.

So, you spend time, lots of time, walking and praying, asking God to help you figure out if you take the new job, or choose to remain in this place that now feels like home. And while listening and praying, it becomes plain as day that God wants you to take the new job and move back home to begin again. Begin the next chapter. 

Transparently, I wanted to remain in the chapter I was living in. Or, I wanted the decision between where I was and where I could go to feel like flipping a coin, embracing each outcome fully. I wanted everyone, including myself, to think I would be happy with either heads or tails, with either Nashville or Denver… But when the coin was flipping through the air, in what felt like slow motion, I found myself wanting the coin to land Nashville face up. Hoping God was just testing me to see that peace was found staying where I was and continuing to grow there. Well, it turns out God’s peace for me was in moving home, and I was not ready. I told people I was excited to be moving home, in the hopes of convincing myself I was ready. When in actuality, I wanted to remain in the life I was leading.

There are clearly reasons He wanted me to come back to my hometown again. Reasons, I have yet to see, if my constant crying is any indication. Even so, the feeling of peace and the trust in God is always right there, never separate from my solemn tears. You can trust God and His plan, you can feel the peace of the Holy Spirit when making a life choice, AND you can still be extremely sad or frustrated that it is different from what you pictured for yourself, and where you pictured your happiness.

It all goes back to those damn puzzle pieces I talked about in my first post. God sees this full picture of where the new job will take me, what moving back home will bring into my life and what it will remove in order for more “good things” to come in. God knows where this puzzle piece leads. Whereas I only understandably see the beauty in the past chapter, and how full my cup is from the collection of moments in Nashville. I trust where He is leading me, I felt peace in the decision to move home, AND I am also completely despondent about leaving everything in Tennessee behind. A month later, and I still want the coin to have landed on the opposite side than it did.

Here is what not a lot of people get… When you leave home, build a whole new life, make a family of friends in that new city, establish a career, routines and favorite places, explore new restaurants and hobbies with that new family of strangers, you take off your masks. You start to grow into who you are and find happiness in where you are and where you are headed. The people you’re surrounded by fall in love with you, for the authentic you. It’s a beautiful and captivating emotion. It’s like a dopamine rush every time you laugh with those friends or create a memory with them in this new found home. You don’t want to disrupt that rush, you want to live in it, extend it as long as possible.

And then you move back to your hometown… Geologically everything is extremely familiar, streets, landmarks, trails, neighborhoods, etc. You know where to go without GPS, you know the people, you know the best places to eat, you know traffic habits, you know what grocery store has the best produce, or what time the trails are less busy on the weekends. Yet, at the same time, everything seems unknown. Unknown because there was a lot of life lived in between moving away and moving back. A lot of lessons and growth, a lot of hardship and triumph. A lot of things that the people in your hometown don’t know about. Or if they do, they don’t get the extent or the impact because they weren’t there when it happened. They weren’t beside you through it all.

Everyone from your hometown has this old version of you in their head. One that they hold many unspoken expectations of. Expectations that no longer fit who they see as a “new” you. Your authenticity doesn’t match up with what they remember, so you do your best to be “authentic” and meet the version of you that they formed years ago. It’s draining. Some people are excited you found yourself, while a majority are confused why you changed. 

This is where I am currently. Some people I knew here in Colorado want to know me without any masks. But some don’t like that I took those masks off in the first place. How unfortunate for them and how unfortunate for my self-esteem when I need support during such a drastic transition. And through all that, I miss my life in that once new city, with those once new relationships.

How do I stay authentic to myself whilst finding contentment in being misunderstood, in being completely unsettled? I want people to understand why I am who I am, why I act the way I do, what made me this way, and still choose me. But the reality is, everyone operates from their own perception of you, whether you are in a new city or an old one. It just takes time to find the people who see you, see your authentic self, and in turn want to surround themselves with it. It takes time to settle into a new life in a familiar place. And it takes divine time to see the puzzle pieces fit together.

I will continue to miss Nashville and my friends there. I will continue to ugly cry when I leave the job I moved for, the job I was so excited about, exhausted and unsure of the choice I made. But I will not let myself feel like I must continue every relationship with the people I knew in Colorado growing up. Or continue to believe God made a mistake in where I felt peace while making the decision between Nashville and Denver. Life changes, relationships change, but God doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t steer you down a path out of malice or spite. It just may feel unconventional to our worldly understanding.

So, cheers to the tears we cry and the sleepless nights we stare at the ceiling hoping things will get better. Cheers to waking up every morning and getting out of bed even when we are struggling and depressed, even when all we want is to go back to another time. We will eventually understand why each puzzle piece is necessary. The once friends that become strangers, the strangers that become family, and the moments that tie it all together. 

I hope you cry, and smile at the little things, and keep creating a life that follows the feeling of peace, even when you are sad to leave your current comfort.

Confidently,

Katey