The growing pains of getting older and moving out.
Life happens fast.
In just a little over a month after graduating, I secured a job in Boston as an Events Coordinator at a university. I was impatiently waiting for the moment of employment to arrive, and now, the past 4 weeks have felt surreal. July was a complete whirlwind while preparing for my relocation. I've been experiencing all of the emotions that come with growing up and moving away.
Overall, I'm excited to begin a new chapter. I can't wait to meet so many new people in my demographic of young professionals, travel, explore, create more memories, and live life on my own terms.
Moreover, everything about my job just makes sense. I'll be working a hybrid schedule, have great benefits, a work-life balance, travel opportunities, and awesome coworkers. It's my one-way ticket out of New Jersey and I am holding onto it for dear life. My home state cannot provide nor support the lifestyle I crave, at least not for right now. My dreams and aspirations are bigger than the Garden State so I'm taking the chance. I hope to encourage everyone to live their lives as courageously and unapologetically.
Honestly, I think I've left a tiny piece of my heart in Boston each time I've gone to visit my cousin. It's just been waiting for the rest of me to catch up.
On the other hand, I've been very overwhelmed. It feels like I've been thrown into the deep end of adulting. My Aunt Sharon joked that "there's no crying in moving." To which I responded, "there's lots of crying in moving."
A lot of change is happening at once:
New job
New city
Moving twice in one month
First apartment and living with other people for the first time
Bills
There have been moments when I've had to dismiss the doubtful voice in my mind telling me, "I'm not ready." I don't know if a person can ever really be ready for such monumental change. The only way is through.
In times like these, I'll always think back to what my Auntie M told me before I went to Italy: "If anyone can figure it out, you can."
Unexpectedly, I am grieving, but in a different way than usual. I am grieving the end of an era. I will never be this version of myself again.
I left the only home I've ever known. It is no longer the safe place I return to after a long day. I'll only be a visitor from now on. Growing up, I believed that my parents would always be together and the house would always be ours. I would come back and it would feel as if nothing changed. I don't know how much longer the house will stay in my family or even stay standing as it is and both of those thoughts send me into a spiral. Although it makes me sad to think about selling it, ultimately, it will be one step in breaking my family's generational trauma.
I also have guilt, which, my therapist explained, occurs when you feel like you did something wrong.
I was raised with an ingrained sense of obligation to family. My parents wanted me to have the world, but from the comfort of our home. To my core, I know that my mother loved me, but sometimes her love felt transactional. She acted as if children owe their parents something, which I've come to learn was an extension of my grandfather's attitude towards parenting and children. Recently, my father vocalized thoughts that reflect that same perspective by expressing how he didn't want me to leave. For my sake and the future generations of my family, that outdated belief is now discontinued.
The discomfort of the cognitive dissonance has been jolting, but my desire to go outweighs any desire to stay. No matter what happens, I know I'm going to be alright, so here's to my biggest adventure yet.