I always said I was leaving and never coming back.

During my high school graduation, so many years ago, I sat next to a girl I’d known for years who cried throughout the entire ceremony. I didn’t know her well, but I don’t think I’d ever seen her cry.

Me? I sat there with a big dopey grin on my face. I was leaving, and I was never coming back.

“Aren’t you sad?” she asked.

“No,” I said. It was true. While I didn’t dislike school – I was smart and did well, I had friends, and teachers liked me – I wanted so much more than what my little school offered me.

Somewhere along the line I outgrew my small town – or at least my dreams did. I was going to college, then I was moving someplace warm, getting a job and then exploring the world. That was my plan.

Too bad it took me 30 years to do that. But, as they say, better late than never.

 

How did I end up here?

When I’ve tried to figure out what changed and how I wound up back just a stone’s throw from where I went to school, I figured it had to do with meeting someone. The summer after I graduated from high school, I met the man who later became my husband. We started dating, and that was it.

He was agreeable to moving elsewhere – at least he said he was. But first, I had college. And then I needed to find a job, and it made sense to live at home while I looked for a job. Too many years have passed for me to assess why I didn’t look out of state. Maybe fear. Maybe I was flat out scared to make that big of a step.

I know I was scared. I have that on record. In a high school English class, we had to write a list of 10 things about ourselves. I found it when I was downsizing my life, and I took a picture of it. No. 10: “I’m afraid. Of my future.” (There’s actually a lot I can “unpack” in that brief 10-point list. Golly, I was spot-on.)

But I didn’t look further afield for work. I got a job, 45 minutes from my parents’ home, and within a few years, I was living and working back right where I started.

You can bet I saw the irony. Me, the one who swore I was leaving and never coming back, I was where I said I never would be.

 

Making excuses, living life

Perhaps I’m too practical, too much of a Gen Xer – pragmatic, methodical. We do what needs to be done.

I needed to provide for my family. It was a good place to raise our kids. We had family close, which at the time was important – or that’s what we told ourselves.

Truthfully, I loved my job. Oh, there were days, like any job. Overall, I felt like I was making a difference for others in our community. I liked that. I liked helping provide the information that readers needed and wanted to read. It let me use my writing and editing skills. I met a lot of people, and I learned a lot – all the time. It was a great job for constant learning, which is important to me.

We had kids, and then they went to school. You get involved in things. You become part of the community. It’s good, but it’s not what you planned.

We said we’d move when the kids were older, out of school, out of the house. There was talk occasionally of moving to Austin, Texas, for the art, music and film scene. But we never planned anything – it was just someday, just talk.

Now, I know that doesn’t work. If you want something – really want something – you have to work for it. You have to have a plan, and you have to work your plan. But at that time, I just drifted. That was life, or that’s what I thought.

I embraced my community. Even though I hadn’t planned to be there, I didn’t hold that against the community. It’s a beautiful place with many wonderful people. When others would speak negatively about it, I’d defend it. It’s not perfect, but it has its good points.

Occasionally, I would be struck by the thought that I was the girl who was going to get out. I’d shake my head, and go back to whatever was filling my time and thoughts. Life, I guess.

 

An authentic life

Perhaps it’s that original goal that made me feel so at home in Portugal. I told a friend that I felt authentic there. It just felt right, like it was where I was supposed to be.

Could I have known at 18 what I really wanted in life? Did I know then who I really was, and I just masked it for 30 years? How much of who we are is determined before we reach adulthood? How much do we press down and negate with what we think we should do or what’s expected of us? Do we conform to societal norms and the desires of our loved ones at the expense of our authenticity?

My personal answer, apparently, is yes.

In hindsight, I should have left after college. I should have gassed up the car, packed a couple of bags and moved to Arizona. Or New Mexico. Or somewhere warm in the desert southwest. I would have found a job – taken something just to pay the bills while I looked for a journalism job. It would have been OK. Scary as hell, but I would have been OK.

Here’s the thing. I don’t regret my decisions. They were my choices, and at the time, I thought they were the right ones. Now, I can see they weren’t true to my authentic self. Instead, I was doing what I thought I should do, what was expected of me. I was trying to fit the mold rather than making my own.

It was only when I finally decided to do what I really wanted – what I’d always wanted – that I felt like it was right. Like I was right.

 

Leaving and never coming back

You can argue that moving to Europe would make anyone feel good. The difference is most people don’t want that. Most people who left for a while would happily come back home – back to their lives, their families, friends, houses and things.

I did not have that feeling, not returning to Tennessee, nor, more recently, to Wisconsin.

Instead of joy, I felt anxiety.

Even driving back north made me anxious.

Perhaps it’s because it hasn’t been that long, and it still weighs on me. I think maybe I needed more time away before I visited again, but here I am for a little while.

The bright spot is my family and friends. I’m so happy to see them again, to touch base and visit. To do things with them, and to have enough time to spend with them. That’s the one and only reason I am here. It has nothing to do with the location and everything to do with the relationships.

They, of course, have their own paths to follow. We intersect, and we’ll stay in touch and see each other again. The distance can make our time together sweeter. It helps you see what’s important – time together, shared memories, making connections that will last – no matter the distance or the time between us.

I had it right, way back when. I was leaving and never coming back. Although I am here temporarily, and will be again periodically in the future because family and friends are here, this will never again be my home. Tennessee will be a good base, but it’s not the “right” place, either. No, I need to be uprooted, unbound. Maybe some day I’ll want to settle down again, but right now, I feel like I have to do this. I have to leave and never come back. I have to be true to myself, finally, completely, authentically.

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How to Be a Better Writer Tip

Write badly until you get something better

During my drive from Tennessee to Wisconsin, I listened to podcasts, including a repost of a Tim Ferriss interview with Seth Godin. It was excellent and touched on so many topics. They came back to writing several times during the conversation, and Godin shared the story of Stephen King’s pen. Inevitably, when King is a guest speaker, someone will ask him what kind of pen he uses to write.

It doesn’t matter. The genius doesn’t come from the pen, or what time of day he writes, or his process. It comes from doing the work – putting pen to paper and writing.

Some of these writing tips I’ve shared are about the process, the tools and ways for you to be more effective. They are meant to help you get unstuck if you’re blocked or to encourage you to try something new. They won’t help you if you don’t do the work, though. It’s still up to you to do the work – to write every day – which is the only way to become a better writer.

Godin suggests you write – even badly – and keep writing until you get something better, because eventually, you will.

I can get behind that.