I was wrong.
Back in July I wrote to you all about a recurring day dream I had been having.
In a nutshell, the daydream went as such: TL in the corridor of a dark cave, trying to break free of thick and sticky cobwebs that grabbed at her face and hands and wouldn't give her freedom.
It seemed particularly obvious that this daydream was about trying to break free, trying to get out, trying to leave behind all the bad stuff.
But it wasn't.
This daydream was about not letting myself runaway from the past. What this daydream was trying to tell me, was that it was time for me to face all the crap (or at least some of the crap - baby steps ya know) I had left behind, or more honestly, that I had run away from - eleven years ago.
It was time to face one of the biggest storms in my life.
It was time to face all that, and the cobwebs wouldn't let me go until that job was done. I wouldn't be allowed to runaway anymore and blame something else. I would be forced to stay, to turn around and look at what was at the original place, to look backward with my new eyes. To turn around and look at that scary place. Look at that place where I had come from.
It was no use anymore... denying. My insides were telling me. It's not that you're afraid to fly or that you have "issues" with your family. It's not that you don't have a place to stay, or not enough money this time around. It's not that you just don't have enough vacation time or couldn't possibly take another day off because you're just so busy. It's not any of that that makes you not want to go back to the city.
It's not any of that that makes you say you hate the city with such venom, with such gut fire. Say you hate to fly. Say you hate taking the time or you don't want to deal with your family. Lie, lie, lie...
What it is is that your heart was broken in that place. What it is is that your life was ended in that place. Your Mother died in that town. She was eaten by The City.
For eleven years, my home, the place I had grown up in, the place I had had everything in, was this big, black, bleak hole that had taken my Mother's life. It stole the innocent look of my childhood envisioned future. It had taken everything. And I just... I just didn't want to go back there.
I made up a lot of excuses, gave myself a fear of flying complex (validated by one bad flight I had 14 years ago), missed out on seeing my family, my best friend's kids, my godchildren growing up - all because I could hardly bear to spend any amount of time in the place I should call home. But home is not supposed to eat Moms. Home is not supposed to have all these bad memories...
I live 3,000 miles away from New York because of this. This was as far as I could get without swimming, and as much as I could afford with $350 in my pocket and five bags of hope on the train. Please, I kept thinking while I was on my way across the vast lands of this country, please let it better in this new place.