I'm moving again. I think it's time. Short version at the bottom of the post.
Photo by Florian Wehde on Unsplash
I have been battling myself in my head over and over, back and forth for two years. What will I do? Where will I go? Will I stay?
Staying never really seemed possible at all here, but I felt true contentment when here in the U.S. with my family.
The only reason I came here at all was because of a string of unfortunate events in my bad luck and extra theatrically bad timing. The pandemic and some poor decisions had bankrupted me. I risked it all in an expensive move and the very same day our first lockdown (and very first COVID case) occurred. After fumbling around and scraping by for the better part of a year on my savings, I decided to go home. I remember feeling very hopeful then. Stressed, but hopeful. My family would be back together. It would open up a new chapter of my life. I could catch up with all the people I hadn't seen in the past three or more years since I'd been in Taiwan. I genuinely was excited to see what the next part of my life would bring.
Ultimately, it brought some of the most difficult decisions I'd ever made to date, the most heartbreaking realizations, and sometimes the worst out of me. It also showed me how much I really care about those I love and how much they care for me, too.
I find myself resentful at how fleeting my time with my family was.
I lived with a monster for my upbringing and when I returned to America as a twenty-eight(?) year old, my father and I brought my grandmother to her home as she had retired and we all felt better if she had support. It felt like I had a proper family.
I decided to get my master's degree because I was home with my nana.
I find myself angry that I didn't get enough time with my family that was happy. I didn't get the chance to live with only people that I care about and who care about me in my father and grandmother (with a bonus family friend). I only got a couple of years where everyone else with happy families gets to grow up that way. Of course, that's silly; there are few people with happy families and even fewer who get to claim they had spent their entire upbringing together and that's just life.
But I got some time.
Although it was short-lived I got a lot of opportunities, one of them being the opportunity to say goodbye.
I'm eternally grateful for my family. I'm eternally grateful for the opportunities they worked hard to give me. I'm grateful that I was given the chance to work more on my writing career while with them. I'm eternally grateful and I had always hoped to be able to return it. Despite being so desperately sad to be away from them, it's another chance to keep moving forward in my various careers.
I am mourning the day-to-day interactions with my family that I cried for when I was gone. I don't think I'll ever feel like an adult when I still ask dad what seasoning to use or nana how to do things (even if sometimes I think I know best).
Despite all of that, I really do enjoy working in my industries. I enjoy the life I have when I live on my own and abroad. I enjoy having the chance to continue to explore the world and its art and languages and people.
I enjoy writing in coffee shops before I go to my job and eating street barbecue after work with other cheerful folks. I like hosting parties and going to events and playing board games and watching concerts.
In some ways, and perhaps only via writing this, it feels as if I'm getting back to my own life. It feels like I'm coming back to the life I worked so hard to make for myself and not taking advantage of the generous life that others have made for me.
Short version: I'm moving to Vietnam this time. Hanoi. I'd love to have you there soon.
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