"The grass isn't always greener on the other side."
You've probably heard that a time or two in life from a parent, grandparent or mentor when you may or may not have been complaining about some situation you were in. It's about how sometimes we romanticize things and then once we have them or experience them, said experience or thing isn't quite what we made it up to be in our minds.
With that, here's a guest post from my friend, CeCe on her experiences from that grass not always being greener on the other side, but more so greener where you water it. Thanks, Ce.
I’ve read a lot of romance novels in my life, at least 200. They’re quick, easy reads. Because they’re typically so predictable, they leave you feeling rewarded. If I’ve learned anything from all of this reading, it’s that the material is totally unrealistic. Romance novels over-romanticize life. Shocking, I know.
In romance novels, there has to be drama or some sort of angst for a relationship to really blossom. The characters have to overcome an obstacle to finally find happiness. Totally not real life, some relationships are happy from the get go. I would actually prefer it that way, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering “what if…”
And that’s what causes trouble.
Romance novels beg us to ask the question, “what if?” What if I hadn’t settled down with him? What if I’d decided to travel the world instead of staying in my hometown? “What if” are two of the most poisonous words imaginable. If left unchecked, they have the possibility to leave hurt, heartache, and regret in their wake. The always-curious part of our being is always searching for something more. Something that will provide us with more happiness than we already have.
I cannot totally discredit this curious mindset; it often keeps people safe and actually leads them to real happiness when their life has none. But for some, it’s a trickster.
I recently moved about 600 miles away from everything I know and love. I left my family, my friends, my job, and my home. Upon moving, I was ecstatic and couldn’t tell enough people that I was getting out. I was adventuring. I was living the life I wanted. After the first month of living in my new city, I was miserable. I couldn’t find a job. I missed my family and friends. My almost nightly cry sessions strained my relationship with the one person I had in this giant city, the person I followed here in the first place.
My homesickness and general-miserableness fueled itself. It was a never-ending cycle. I convinced myself that if I had stayed in my hometown I would have been happy. My family and friends would have been close, I could have easily found a job (even if I hated it), and my significant other could have moved on without me. Maybe we weren’t meant to be together. I constructed this future for myself where I would have been happy and comfortable. Sure, I would probably watch my boyfriend following his dreams from afar while I gave up mine, but that would have been okay because I was safe at home.
This delusion grew over the first three months after my move. The more it grew, the more toxic it became. My relationship was unraveling faster by the day. One night, after another breakdown, he asked me to move back home. He could see how miserable I was and knew I would be happier home. My heart broke and although I knew I should be happy he understood, a large part of me knew he was wrong. I booked a flight home for the weekend in hopes of healing some homesickness.
In the three days I spent home, I realized how convoluted my delusion had been. I was too big of a fish for the too-small bowl that is my hometown. I would have suffocated and become a different person. Someone I dreaded being my entire life. After several conversations with my mom, I knew I was in the right place doing the right thing. My problem was that I turned “what if” into a mantra and blinded myself to the world and opportunities around me.
My trip home was a week ago, I don’t feel as homesick anymore and the delusion of a perfect and happy life back home still lives in my mind. I’ve labeled it a fantasy and prohibit my mind from wandering there for too long. If you find yourself treading into a similar patch of sinking sand, grab a loved one for stability. Someone to help you see what’s best for you and pull you out of the sand. Then run as far away from the patch as you can.
-CeCe
CeCe's Note: Fantasies aren't always fabulous.