Thursday, August 25, 2011

i guess i'm home.

When I moved back to Indianapolis, I knew in my heart it was totally temporary.

I never planned to stay. I didn't bother establishing a routine, try to make more friends than I already had scattered around the city, learn any new ways to get around,  find any cool spots to hang out, or get involved with anything bigger than my 9-5, getting drunk with my girlfriends, and hanging out with my family.

I was essentially one step away from vacation mode, a stranger, a passerby.

And that was fine, because I never had any intention of staying, I had no reason to establish more roots, create a network (professional or social) or get myself involved in ventures I'd just have to walk away from when I figured out where I was going, because I WAS going SOMEWHERE else, damn it.

Except that was my life for two years prior to that move to Indianapolis.

And I've been here a year and a half.

Now, this isn't a rant against being a tourist in your own town, exploring places you've never been, eating at new restaurants, or wandering some hidden suburb- those things are wonderful.

This is about just passing through a place every day without acknowledging and accepting that this pit stop is actually your home now- and that even scarier, that big move to somewhere more exciting could just not come anytime soon.

Over a year ago now, four months into my move to Indy, I wrote a very long, desperate, and heart felt letter to my best friend, essentially begging him to give us a shot. That I was finally really ready, after all those years of waiting and waiting and being patient with me and giving up, that it was basically the only thing that really made sense to me anymore. It was fucking draining and humbling to get down on paper. Then I sent it, got extremely drunk, and avoided checking my email for a few days.

What I didn't realize then was that was the moment that the tables also started to turn, I was just ignoring them and choosing to eat on the floor or in front of the tv, or throwing a blanket over some grass and calling it a picnic. Because, fuck tables.

He may have taken me with open arms, but it took months until I realized I was still living in tourist mode, but with a relationship, and it wasn't working too well.

I sat back and realized that now all those things I'd been avoiding? They were happening anyway, I just didn't realize it because I was wearing my "I'm getting the FUCK out of here ASAP" badge so proudly, and it was starting to hurt the people in the HERE and NOW.

So I forced myself to stop researching every other city that seems great in the US and abroad and started paying a little  more attention to my own, which is good because I feel less like my eyes are constantly darting every which way trying to figure out where I can flee to next. I started running, finding new places and paths to run that I'd never tried before. I chewed my lips and hemmed and hawed, but finally allowed myself to move all my belongings to one central location, a home, instead of thrown carelessly about here and there in various locations.  I got involved in local politics and I'm signing up for art classes at a studio near where I live.

And I'm mentoring girls for an organization I've fallen in love with. My first session is today and I'm excited and nervous and decidedly... content.

I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up or where I'll land when I figure it out, but I think maybe I was getting it wrong with my vagabond state of mind, maybe I need a bit of stability to help me figure out where I'm going. Maybe I need to be involved in a community, to really love it, to become the kind of person that another community wants to have.

So Indianapolis, I'm home, and you're stuck with me for now.

Maybe you need to be the one to tell me when my time here is up and not the other way around.


Xo Sara 

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