My Second Indianaversary

Two years.

2 years.

Two. 2. Two. 2.

Two years ago, I moved home.

How has it been two years? The more I repeat those words, the less sense they make, and the less profundity they have. They are just words that don't at all encompass the fact that somehow, so much time has passed since I made that journey away across deserts and prairies and through fields and forests, from California to Indiana.

So much of my life is completely different.

The magic and wonder that came with, "Oh my god, I really did make it back home" have worn off, of course. Just like with a new relationship, there's no way that bliss could sustain itself. Not when things like perpetual 'flu, an incredibly fucked-up election, an unstable living situation with an unpleasant person, and just all the quotidian things that come with living life, are all crowding in. So yes, in that sense, the euphoria has worn off. But my happiness, my contentment, my sense of rightness, those have not faded in these two years, only grown ever more lush, like a never-ending Indiana June.

Lots of people say, "You can't outrun your problems. Run away, move to a new place, you'll still be you.You won't be any happier. New city, same you."

Well...yes, and no.

I did move to a new place, start a new life. And I was still me. I still had some of my problems; I was still the same person that created and/or attracted and/or permitted those problems. But I was still--and am still--happier. Because, as it turns out, there were some problems that I could leave behind. My biggest problems were where I was living (it felt completely alien and wrong for me); my marriage (it was an absolute failure); and my job (I had outgrown it.) So, I moved to a place that I loved, that felt right; I ended my marriage; and I took a new job, at a different organization, doing something very different. I was the same person, but I liked my life so much more. Even during this last year, which was simply a nightmare year, I still liked my life.

2 years in, and I am still me. Still liking my life, and still aware of my flaws, my choices, my habits, my thought processes, my insecurities, all of which are still a part of me, and still have the potential to bring me unhappiness. All I can do, every day, is try embrace this new chance at life that I've been given, to try to fall more in love with my lovely, backward state, to simultaneously improve my faults and yet accept that "All we can be is who we are...failures and all."

I'm still me. I'm home. And I'm happy.