A Reasonably Major Detour

I am now stunningly free of my previous occupation, which is, to be honest, a little bit beautiful in pretty much every way imaginable.

My original plan (because we all know how much I love plans) was to go off and be a truck driver for a while.

(That plan is absolutely still in motion. That is definitely a thing that I am pursuing. I have the fucking 500 page permit study guide now, and sweet fuck is that ever intimidating, but, I digress.)

The plan to become a truck driver has been tabled until further notice, in light of several health issues popping up in family members still living in my hometown. As I am currently unemployed, I am uniquely qualified to drop all of the nothing that I have going on to head up and do my best to help out.


I fucking hate my hometown.

I hate it.

And, it has nothing at all to do with the town, or the people there. I just. – It’s a fucking wonderful town. There are so many opportunities there, for so many things, it’s a great place, a lot of people are just really, really happy there.

I still have people who live there, who mean so freaking much to me. (Driftpartner and Tawanda, for starters, but also just. So many people that I care about.)

But I fucking hate that town.

It’s a classic ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ moment.

It has nothing to do with the place or the people and entirely to do with my own history.

Part one of it, is honestly just that I was so deeply unhappy there, for so many years.

Part two of it, that’s harder for me to explain is the part that I know is entirely in my head.

I grew up in this town, I know…virtually everyone there. Everyone knows everyone. I can run into my school teachers at the grocery store. – And that’s all fine.

It’s just that, for some reason, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always had this feeling that success in my hometown…isn’t real.

–  Because even if I managed to be the most successful person ever to be in that town, I just have this feeling that I’ve not actually learned to be successful in life.

No matter what I accomplish there, none of it feels *true*.

Because I haven’t learned how to be successful in life, I’ve learned how to be successful in this one, teeny, out-of-the-way town, where as much as it might be my own merit getting me somewhere, it’s just as much that people remember me being on the swim team with their child Back In The Day.

It’s like. Inescapable nepotism, almost?

I go back, and I feel like it doesn’t matter who I am now, because everything that changed happened where these people didn’t see it.

So suddenly I’m the exact same as I was when I was fucking growing up.

I hate it.

It’s fucking suffocating.

-Which is, of course, only compounded by the part where I feel like…anything I try to do there is useless. Everything gained is inherently negated simply by the setting in which it happens.

Because none of it is a reflection of my actual ability.

It’s all just…cashing in on nostalgia.

Getting somewhere because I know the people to call, because I’ve always known the people to call, because it’s a teeny fucking town.

Someone says ‘I know I can give you this job, because I know you’re reliable’, but really I feel like it means ‘I’m going to give you this job, because I’ve known you since before you were able to talk’.

Which has… absolutely nothing at all to do with my character now, and who I am, and what I can do.

It also has to do with patterns of interaction?

Because I don’t want to be the person that I used to be, I was so fucking  miserable. It’s just so easy to get caught up in the same habits.

I feel like going back there is just… going *back*.

…which is absolutely overwrought and over-dramatic and what-the-fuck-ever.


I’m just so fucking tired of feeling like my life is stalling, and it feels practically impossible to move forward when I’m just… going back to my hometown.

Back into stasis.

Back to the same places I’ve always gone, and the same fucking things I’ve always done.

Which…is of course. It’s entirely up to me. I can make different decisions and do different things, and keep trying to move forward. That’s always going to be entirely on me.

It just seems so much easier to keep moving when there are no ruts to get stuck in.


Share Your Story:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s