Exactly one year ago this past weekend, I was living in Columbus and had carefully selected the holiday weekend to adopt a new puppy, to add to my already over-populated family of four cats and one dog. I thought, what was one more at that point? And I convinced myself that Izzy seemed depressed as an out-numbered canine, when in reality I was the one that was depressed. You know the medicine commercial where the dog brings a ball over to its owner and just drops it on the floor? The dog looks so sad as it watches it’s owner sit in the chair alone, unaware and unattached. Like a zombie. That was pretty much me. I was still within the first year of losing my Mom, grieving the best any daughter could I guess, and was grasping at anything I thought would put a smile on my face. At that point, it was a puppy, that just happened to look like a miniature version of the one I already had.

Fast forward one month later and of course I was still miserable, except now even though I was greeted at my front door with cuteness everyday, I really just had more responsibility. And more pee all over the house. I was irritable at work, unhappy at home, and the best word to describe how I felt on a daily basis, was stuck. When I had my Mom to talk to, it didn’t matter how far away I was from home, she made me feel I was right where I needed to be. Without her, even the friends that I had close by, felt like a million light years away.

I knew I needed to make a change. And a big one. I’m not good at sitting still just waiting for things to get better with time. I started fantasizing about the idea of starting over, maybe even in another state. New people, new relationships, I could leave behind all the things that hadn’t worked out for me here. Bolting really, is what I wanted to do. After eight years in Columbus, I was still searching for something, I just didn’t know what. And now, without my Mom to help me think through things like she always did, I didn’t know where to start anymore.

It was around the same time I was flipping through relocation guides from Burlington and Portland when I started visiting my hometown more and more often. I began reconnecting with friends that I had lost touch with over the years and spent more and more time with family. I ended up realizing, way quicker than I ever imagined, that when I was home with them – the feelings of dread went away. Instead, wonderful memories of my Mom around every twist and turn, and the laughter of my little Nephews replaced them. When I would get in my car to head back to my reality, dread and sadness rushed back instantly as I pulled out of my Mom’s driveway, where my Brother and his family were now living. Every time I left, I felt like I was losing Her all over again.

I knew I had to do something, and it was now-or-never time. I kept hearing my Mom’s voice in my head saying, “Shit or get off the pot!” (She always had her little Nancy-isms that are now forever embedded in my brain). And for someone that is pretty damn indecisive about what I want to wear let alone do with my life, I made a pretty quick decision that would end up changing my entire world, all without really thinking about where it would lead me. And that was to move back home. I came into work on Monday and gave my peers the news. Without even a flinch.

The next couple of months were crazy and stressful as I prepared to sell my condo, start packing, search for a new place to live, nurse a sick cat back to life, and figure out how I would earn an income once I got to my new digs. My place ended up selling in 3 days, which sounds like I got really lucky, most people would kill for that to happen. But the reality for me was that, a decision that I though that I would have several months to get used to, rushed me out of town in less than 30 days. “Wholly shit, what have I done? And am I doing the right thing?” is honestly what I was realllllly thinking to myself.

Everything certainly worked out, but the entire process was exhausting and things were definitely not all rainbows, unicorns and sunshine once my new life started. Trust me. As much as I wish that a day in the life of Me resembled a funny sitcom where at the end of the half hour, all the characters have their problems figured out and the audience is clapping – that was not the case. And it still isn’t. Almost a year later and I am still adjusting to my decisions.

With the exception of the first month after I moved, while I was still on some sort of high from the excitement of being back home, and somewhat delusional from thinking that all my worries would go away just by being here – the rest of my year would better be described as fucking awful. I will write more on that in another post sometime, but for now I will tell you that one of the biggest things I’ve learned is that everything has a trade-off. If you make even a little change in one area to gain in another, it is unrealistic not to expect that something else will also change that you didn’t anticipate, or even want to.

In my case, I traded in financial security and comfort to be closer to family and friends. I got a big ugly slap in the face from reality, pretty quickly, as I learned that job opportunities would not be easy to come by. I also found that it was very naive to set the expectation that just by simply (or not-so simply) moving to a new location, that all of my problems and grief would disappear. Um, they didn’t. They actually got worse. Waaaaay worse.

The silver lining though, is that now I finally had the support system I needed so desperately all those years close by, so I didn’t feel so alone when times got tough. I can say now, that having my family and friends just a few minutes away, makes all the difference in my world, and for the first time in years I don’t feel “stuck”. Broke, but not stuck. There’s a difference. There isn’t any high paying job located thousands of miles away that is worth trading in being five minutes away from the people that I love the most – and that love me in return.

Moments like surprising my 95-year-old Grandma with Dunkin Donuts on a Saturday afternoon, leaving work a little early to catch my adorable twin Nephews’ pre-school program, swinging by my Brother’s house just because, my Uncle offering to come by to help me yank the weeds out of my yard, Girls’ Nights with sincere and supportive friends, and being able to place my Mom’s favorite flowers at her stone. Those moments would be impossible anywhere else – and I am not willing to trade in on any of them just quite yet. Not for this chapter of my life, at least.

On the drive home from work today, and as I was lost in thought as usual, a song came on my stereo that got me thinking and inspired this post. I cranked it up loudly and sang my little heart out, as it played just in time to end as I pulled into my driveway where my tiny Ginger-bread like house lives at the end. I realized something else.

At this point in my life, there isn’t much else I am certain about. But one thing that I do know for sure is that home is where my heart is. And right now, my heart belongs where love surrounds me, and memories of my Mom will live on forever.

There really is no place like home.

Song of the Blog: 
Take Me Home  |  Phil Collins  |  circa 1985