You can’t go home again.

It’s an old sentiment, which expresses the reality that things change and so do we. We can never go back to the way things were. You can’t go home again, because it never will be the same.

For some people, it’s even more literal. For some, the physical place — the home — is gone. Sold or destroyed.

I’ve experienced a bit of both.

Since leaving Wisconsin last year, I changed a lot. A LOT.

So did everyone else. So coming back was not so much a homecoming as a reunion — a chance to reconnect with family and friends and share how we have changed in the past year.

Of course, the house I called home was sold last summer. Even the house where I spent my teen years has undergone great changes. It just drives home the point that change is constant and inevitable. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad — just different.

Going home is good and bad

I knew it would be good and bad to be back this summer for an extended visit.

First, the good.

The people. Spending time with family. Seeing friends. Catching up. Laughing. Crying. Remembering. Making plans. Celebrating.

The beauty. Wisconsin is a beautiful place. I’ve enjoyed the many beautiful spots to walk, sit, watch the water, read a book, enjoy the sun, see wildlife, take pictures.

The familiarity. It’s helpful to know where you are going and how best to get there. No need for GPS every time you leave the house. Even when you’re lost, you aren’t really lost.

The generosity. Friends and family have stepped up to help me out in myriad ways. I am grateful especially to those who have given me a place to stay. That’s been wonderful!

Now, the bad parts about being back.

The anxiety. When I first was driving here, the closer I got, the more anxious I became. When I went to Rapids a day or so later, I started to hyperventilate. I was driving into town the way I often went to my house, and I had this overwhelming feeling of sadness and despair. I was able to pull myself together, but it was a weird experience.

The memories. Even my good memories of these places are tinged with sadness. It seems like every place — every street even — holds some memory for me. When you’re here all the time, it fades into the background of life. When you leave and come back, it’s revived.

Being here instead of some place else. Namely Portugal. I didn’t want to leave Lisbon and the life I was building there. But I wanted to be here for my daughter. Family is still a high priority for me. And I’ll get back to where I want to be.

Why going home is easy … and hard

It’s easy to get back into the rhythm of life here. It hasn’t been that long since I left. I don’t feel like a stranger.

But that’s also hard, because I no longer follow the same rhythm. As a freelancer, I can work when I want. My schedule still runs more European than American. My days are a blend of many different activities. It often doesn’t feel like the actual day. For instance, a Tuesday night feels more like a Sunday, like it’s back to work or school the next day.

It’s easy because central Wisconsin was my home for nearly my entire life. It feels comfortable. But I don’t feel like I fit in any more. I can visit and enjoy it, but I know I’ve moved on.

It feels a little off, like someone put a dimmer bulb in the lamp. It works, but it’s wrong.

Why you can’t go home again

I don’t know if this is my last extended visit home. Partly, it will be a matter of where I’m living and where my children are living. If they go explore the world beyond Wisconsin, I won’t feel like I need to visit for more than a couple of weeks. That’s enough time to see people and catch up.

After all, they have their lives and I have mine. We will continue to intersect, until we don’t anymore.

So you can’t really go home if you leave — or even if you stay. We all are changing, and there’s no way to truly go back or go home.

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How to be a Better Writer Tip

Keep Writing

Several times this week I tried to write a blog. I had some ideas, but they weren’t coming together. I wrote an entire post and decided it was crap. It’s a good idea but disjointed. It seemed more like a stream of consciousness than a thought-out work. I saved it to rewrite it later.

Then, I got another idea. I got bogged down in the details and stuck in the fifth paragraph. However, I saved it, in case I’m inspired to finish it later.

Finally, I lighted on the idea for this blog, and it came together fairly easily.

It’s not usual for me to get stuck. As a journalist, I had to crank out copy — good, bad or otherwise. I guess that’s what I did, after all. I cranked out copy that wasn’t so good, then something incomplete and then this. You can judge if it’s any good. At least it met my standards for a post I was willing to publish.

The takeaway: I kept writing, even when it didn’t turn out like I wanted or when I thought it wasn’t good. If I’d quit writing then, I wouldn’t have a blog post or a blog at all. It’s the fact that I keep at it, keep writing, that I’m able to come up with something worth sharing.

If you think your writing isn’t very good, it’s OK. Keep writing. Something better will come from it.