Who the hell are you?

I used to think that my family was the most important thing in my life. Not the worst thing to value…there truly are worse things. They’d be the first ones I’d call or share important things with. It was hard to go back to my respective city each time I’d visit them. Scared of being alone, and of being someone without them, and sad to be leaving the one thing I defined myself by.

I was living in NYC for about 5 years once I decided to leave the city to go back home where my family was. It was time for a lifestyle change. I had quit my office job (hopefully forever) and started nannying and doing some contract work from home. I filled about 40 hours of my week doing these two jobs, was running around the city the rest of the time getting to and from them, figuring out how to get health insurance and balancing a very tight budget. I barely made enough money to pay rent and eat but for the first time ever I felt free as fuck and like I was living in alignment with myself.

Deciding to leave New York was hard but choosing North Carolina was relatively easy. My family was there and it was really the only other place that was “home.” Don’t get me wrong, I liked North Carolina but my family being there sealed the deal. I wanted to be close to my parents as they aged and close to my siblings who were having babies. I thought about Philly for a moment because it was close by, smaller and I had a few friends that lived there. But still that familial connection wasn’t in Philly and remember, my family was the most important thing in my life at that point.

After some deliberation I researched the options for moving. I could rent a storage unit and go down to NC for the summer to feel it out or I could rent a minivan for $600 and drive all of my belongings and my cat down the length of the East coast. I chose the latter. I decided I could always come back to NYC if I wanted to and I trusted that I would go through with that if that’s what I really wanted.

On the way down I cried, listened to podcasts, watched my cat burrow herself in her carrier because of her anxiety (me too girl). A few scary moments occurred while driving and the thoughts running through my head were, “I’m stuck in Virginia (or wherever I was) with all of my belongings and my cat and I have to foot a $500 bill to get this car fixed.” Nothing that I feared came to fruition. That’s usually the case isn’t it? And these were minor distractions during an emotional time. I had no idea what was about to ensue once I arrived.

Fast forward to getting to Charlotte — where my family was. I didn’t have any idea what the next three years would bring. In short, a lot of struggle, heartbreak and soul searching. A lot of moving — both physical and emotional. A lot of moving away from the old ideals of who I thought I was or was going to be. Moving away from family traditions. Moving away from diet culture and the thinking that I was never going to be worthy. For the first time I wondered if I’d ever marry or have kids because for the first time I allowed myself to ask the questions. And hell fucking yes it was all really scary.

Moving physically closer to my family meant moving away from their ideals, which is ironic. Being called home was a reckoning with who I was and wanted to be. There have been really hard parts about that journey. It’s hard to do it alone. It’s hard not to be able to go to them with certain things anymore. It’s hard to realize that everyone in my family defines themselves as who they are in the family unit or within their own smaller families. It’s hard to feel triggered by every little thing that they do. It’s hard to be ok with how I’m living and ok with how they’re living (those being two completely different ways). Perhaps it’s difficult because I’m grieving parts of myself and my relationships or because for so long the path looked familiar and well traveled and then suddenly it didn’t. But now I get to listen to me — not someone else. And my goodness is that freeing. I don’t ever have to wonder “what if?”

On that one day (or days leading up to that one day) I decided to get quiet and listen and “be”. I decided to slow down and prioritize what I wanted out of my life. Because what does living in a way that doesn’t honor us do for us? Not shit. When we find what those things are that matter to us and we no longer identify with certain people, values, activities it is a grieving process — a process of loss and of rebirth. But what else are we here for if not to live huge beautiful lives and be connected to ourselves?

So, who do you want to be? Who are you when you’re living out a big beautiful life for you instead of for someone else? When you start to remove the external factors, situations and people…who the hell are you? Maybe it’s a big ole question mark. That’s ok and that’s a fantastic place to start.