Love Where You Live

The first time I flew back to Massachusetts after living in California for a few months was exciting but embarrassing. I wasn’t planning on going home until Christmas (to give myself proper adjustment time) but then June came around and I physically couldn’t bear the thought of not going home for another six months.  

I honestly felt as excited as the first time I went to Disney World. I was so thrilled when I landed in the weird, scattered city of Boston. I got off the plane and couldn’t WAIT to see the 2-3 Dunkin Donuts in the terminal or smell the salty sea trash air. I can’t help it, or change it, or even control it… New England will always be home. 

It took a long time for me to realize that the pang I felt for Massachusetts whenever I was away wasn’t exactly homesickness, but rather a yearning to be where I belonged. I was homesick, of course, but I didn’t know what I was homesick for. What did I miss exactly? My friend group all lived in different states, my theater had already replaced me, and I certainly didn’t want to live in the same home as my family again. I kept going home, like four times a year, because something kept pulling me back. 

In the spring of 2016, I was planning on transferring to New York for work. I had a start date, temporary housing all lined up, and a group of friends waiting for me with open arms. A week before I was due to move, I told a colleague that I maybe felt like I was making a huge mistake. She told my boss, we talked about it, and I decided to stay in Los Angeles. My goal was to get back to the east coast, but New York no longer felt right. 

I gave Los Angeles another chance, and really enjoyed living there, but ultimately I realized that I wasn’t yearning to be CLOSER to home, I wanted to be home. It’s where I felt the most comfortable, the freest to be me, the safest in my skin, and surrounded by other MASSHOLES.

Something never felt right in L.A. I had a fantastic job, a good relationship, and made wonderful friends. I happy houred (it’s a verb), saw concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, watched movies at the Hollywood Forever cemetery, hosted pool parties in my apartment building, performed improv at every major theater, spent weekends in Vegas and Palm Springs, surfed (once), accidentally went to a museum owned by Scientology, learned how to skate in Venice (once), and I even almost got kicked out of a Gelson’s for drunk and disorderly and trying to steal a king-size Reese’s peanut butter cup. On paper. or INSTAGRAM, everything was great! 

But I was FORCING IT every single day. I hated my hour-long commute to go 8 miles, and that I lived on the east side and my friends lived on the west side so my weekends were lonely, or expensive. People only seemed to want to be my friend if I had some sort of industry connection, so I would lie about my industry status all the time. Also, my friends were mostly guys so I’d watch sports every weekend just to fit in. I loved them all, and still do, but I always felt like I was forcing our L.A. lives to be just like our Boston lives but somehow they fit the vibe so much better. I always felt so lost. 

I just never felt like I belonged there. I had this wall hanging (that was actually a BABY SWADDLE) that said, “No one belongs here more than you” and I tried my hardest to believe it. I tried to believe that I was allowed to be there just as much as everyone else was. I’d drink wine on my balcony and look at the gorgeous homes on the hills and feel like a total and complete loser. I wasn’t even taking advantage of Los Angeles, I was just drinking at home all the time with my boyfriend. It was three years of confidence-draining bullshit. I’d even say the last six months were my favorite months of my entire L.A. life, but even when I was happiest, I felt lonely and small. 

Ultimately, I realized that I wanted to be near my family. If I was ever going to get married and have kids, I wanted to meet someone who would ultimately want to do that in Boston. There’s no chance I’d meet someone in L.A. and get them to move to NEW ENGLAND. Now, I don’t even want kids, but I want to build my life near my family. I love the seasons, especially fall. Summer is my least favorite season and that is the main attraction in Los Angeles. I want to visit other New England states and go to the Louisa May Alcott house DRESSED AS LOUISA MAY ALCOTT. Everything back east just fits me more and I feel like a total WINNER here. I mean, have you seen east coast people?!?! We’re pure garbage!!!! 

Now that I have been back for five years, I’ve stopped worrying about whether I “made the right choice” or whether or not I “failed” in L.A. It doesn’t matter anymore. I decided to move to Massachusetts not because it was safe, or comfortable, but in spite of those things. I moved to Massachusetts because I feel a strong connection to it and when I realized what mattered to me the most, all of those values were in New England. 

Earlier this month, I went to Los Angeles for the first time in two years. I was so excited to land in a city that I knew so well and spoke the “language.” Yet, as I drove on the 10 to Palm Springs, I felt nothing. The scenery was so bland. When I drive to Vermont or New Hampshire, I see the coast, and green trees, and blue skies.  In California, I get beige. Sure, the 101 and Malibu coast is nice but I HAVE ESTABLISHED THAT I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THAT RIDE. 

I just kept thinking, “I am so happy to be here but I am so glad I don’t live here anymore.” May we all find the place we love and connect with, and live there for as long as we’re happy so our obituaries aren’t super depressing.