Home is Where the Heart is in the USA

 

Home is Where the Heart is

It wasn’t until I went away to college that I realized some places were more liberating than others. I had never really traveled as a child, at least not outside of family vacations to see more family, and I had lived in the same small Midwestern town my entire life. I had always been a little different than most of my peers, in that I didn’t really follow every typical social norm and reveled in what I considered to be my own particular brand of weirdness. Everything from my religious and political views to my own sexuality went against the grain, especially since I had spent twelve years obtaining a Catholic education. Not to say I was a social pariah – I had plenty of friends and a family who loved me. However, that didn’t stop them from teasing me mercilessly over what I read, how I dressed, my favorite music and the way I viewed the world. So while I never really felt like I fit in but I didn’t exactly mind; I just figured that’s how things were supposed to be.

Then I moved a few hours away to attend a state university. Almost immediately, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I could breath. People were more accepting of almost all aspects of my personality and I found others who shared my interests and tastes. I learned that the way I viewed the world wasn’t so strange after all and that I wasn’t nearly as alone as I had thought myself to be. I felt enlightened and reveled in my new found freedoms. And then I went home for my first visit.

It was as though a heavy, wet blanket was covering me and becoming more oppressing with each passing mile. By the time I drove up my parent’s driveway, I felt as though all of the freedom and individuality I had experienced had blown out of my open car window. Things were as they had always been and they remained that way until I got back on the road to return to school. Then that damp blanket disappeared and I felt buoyant once again. I encountered this phenomenon during each visit of my freshman year and that was part of the reason I didn’t return home for summer. I felt freer than I had ever felt in my entire life and staying out of my hometown seemed to be the key to all of that. I didn’t want to give it up.

As time passed and I grew older, though, I realized that my hometown wasn’t my problem. My own mentality was. I had been too scared to let my real personality shine through on a permanent basis and kept reverting to my younger, sheltered self when I was around family or old friends. After a while, though, I decided that keeping my most interesting parts to myself half the time wasn’t really an honest way to live. Instead, I started to focus on staying true to myself wherever I went, from my childhood home to my college campus and everywhere in between. It was redemptive and scary and fascinating all at once.

The place that allows me to be free isn’t a tangible spot found on a map – it’s inside of me. My own determination to embrace my personality and enjoy the woman I have become is what allows me freedom. I carry it with me wherever I go and I never have to worry about not being able to find my way back. It may not be conventional or conformist, but then again neither am I. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

About the Author:Paige has been a reader and writer since she was a talker and walker. She enjoys not-so-fine wines, blogging and playing fetch with her cat.

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