A Series of Observations

“I don’t care if it’s a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t you feel even worse.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

The time has come for yet another change, this time entirely self-imposed. I was rejected to finish my temporary contract by working remotely, and as a result I promptly handed them my resignation.

I have never done that before.

Sure, I’ve left jobs before, but it was always with another bigger or better opportunity lined up. With some sort of plan that would move me forward in my life.

This time that is not the case.

I do have a backup plan, but it requires me to go “backwards,” and return home for a little while. A very hard thing to do when no other opportunities are coming up.

I’ve thought a lot about the concept of “backwards.” I’ve grappled over what the right next step is for me, and how leaving this opportunity means I need somewhere to get back on my feet. That place for me will always home with my family.

Someone recently described getting in a relationship with me again as them going backwards, and as something they were intent on not doing, and coming from someone I deeply cared about, it was such a painful thing to hear. I didn’t understand what would be so bad if we had tried again, all coming together with a sensitivity toward the subject I’ve already been experiencing intense emotions around. And thus it was a catalyst that forced me to think about it more.

I may not have felt the same way about that relationship as he did, but I have felt the same exact way about going home.

I feel a lot of shame about going back to the place I grew up. Returning while seeing myself as a failure, as heartbroken and exhausted, defeated and lacking the hope I usually carry, simply because this opportunity was not going to work out for me the way I needed it to, and I continue to lose people along the way.

Apply it to relationships, or jobs, or whatever you like, but I understand how uncomfortable it is to go backwards. Excluding truly horrible instances, there are given certainties, comforts, and the like, to going back to something you used to have. But what if you no longer fit in those places because you yourself have changed so irrevocably?

There is the true fear.

Fear of going back to what was because you are not the same, even if there is the possibility that those changes allow you to meet that place, that person, that thing, in a much more positive way.

I certainly don’t feel the same as I was, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be who I was before, not that I would want to.

I’ve always been a “late bloomer,” I might have excelled in many ways, read at a higher grade level than most and accomplished many things, but that was also at the sacrifice of many other things; first kisses, going away to college, other things that shape you just as much as anything in this world.

Because of this, I’ve placed a lot of pressure on myself, and a lot more shame and guilt for not being where I think I should be.

I thought by now, at the age of 26, I would feel more confident to run away to a big city and live out my Sex and the City fantasies. Afterall, I have been told my entire life that I seemed like such a city girl.

I thought I’d be achieving higher than I ever have, working in a job that fueled me, with someone I was planning to spend the rest of my life with, or at the very least getting so much romantic interest I don’t have enough days in the week for dates.

A bit exaggerated, I know, but the premise is there.

I went to a big city, and immediately wanted to leave.

I got a corporate job, and even though it’s great, I don’t want to stay in the industry.

I am single and I listen to Raye’s “Where Is My Husband!” song way too much.

I do have to give myself some credit, because Philadelphia was never on my radar until my friends decided to live here, and there was probably a very big unexplainable reason for that, which I am finding out now. It’s just not my place. The stars aren’t aligned for me here.

The fashion industry was always something I admired from afar, engaged with it because clothing, like for many, is a way I enjoy expressing myself. Even if I’ve gotten used to wearing scrubs far more than stilettos these days.

Instead, I used to daydream about New York City. About yellow taxis, adorable apartments that I could fill to the brim with friends that love me. In my mind I walked those streets in designer and in constant excitement. Or maybe even Europe, where I spent my days in cute cafes, exploring history and living a dynamic life.

I daydream about books because my love has always existed between the pages of a novel. I want to write books, to design books, to bring characters to life and attend events that exist solely for a recent release or to celebrate an author. I want to create, create, create.

I’ve spent most of my life single, and the relationships I have been in have been more discouraging than healing, leading me to feel very closed off to that part of my life and uninterested in getting hurt again, even if I desire the affection and intimacy it might allow.

Back to the point at hand. None of those things are happening for me right now, and as I’ve spoken about before, there is nothing in this world worth sacrificing your happiness or well-being for, which has been my experience in Philadelphia.

This whole time, albeit a short time, I have been proven why I never really considered living here in the first place.

So, to avoid the very expensive and metaphorically costly experience that would be pushing myself to stay here, I am leaving.

I am going “backward.”

Back to a home that I grew up in and feel genuinely loved by the people that exist there.

Back to a job where even on its bad days, even when I’m exhausted by it, I know that I am making a true difference in people’s lives and connecting to many.

Back to a place where I have been every single version of myself, good and bad.

I think I will return home with a new appreciation for it, and though I can’t say I’ll stay there forever, there is the possibility that I might. That I might grow a business there, publish my books from there, travel the world repeated as I already have and return to that same place, with those same people.

I know my story isn’t done yet, and I am so curious about what this world has to offer me. I believe that I have more risks to take and more places to explore. That’ll require me to heal from this experience and gain my strength back to try again. If I chose to stay home, I have to learn to be ok with that.

Regardless, it’s hard.

My days are coming to an end here, and I will spend my last weekend in Philadelphia with my best friend, preparing for a snowstorm. The snow will blanket the otherwise filthy, angry, busy city in a calm freshness, a quiet resolve, a beautiful embrace.

I might walk the streets one last time and look around at the possibilities that I am walking away from knowing they are not possibilities for me to take.

I’ll pack up the remainder of my things, I’ll lock the door behind me, and without looking back for too long, I’ll say goodbye.

Goodbyes are usually the best things for us, whether or not we realize it at the time. Yet there is so much beauty in hello’s as well, and I hope that you remain open to the things that come back to you, there might be a good reason for that too.

Sometimes going backwards is a good thing. It allows us to see things more clearly. To understand things differently, and to appreciate everything on an entirely different level.

Sometimes, going backwards is the only thing you can do to go forward again.