Turns out I've spent my life being homesick.
When I was 10 years old, I decided I wanted to move to New York City. Why? I was invited to go to a boarding school and sing in a well-known choir in an adventure and opportunity not available to most people in this culture, let alone this world. I passed the audition, passed whatever academic entrance testing I needed, and *boom!* I was in if I wanted to accept their offer. I left home at age 11, not really understanding what I was leaving behind.
[Before I go any further, I want to inform you, the reader, that I have no intention of gaining pity or extra attention because of some deep truths I am choosing to share. I know that lately I've exposed some things that most people wouldn't share on a blog. My mission, knowing full well the changing state of this world and particularly the mental and emotional health, is to shed some light on such struggles and issues by sharing aspects of my story that will help others be able to identify some of their wounds and shortcomings.
There is a way to be transparent -- even in such a public place as the internet -- and still be safe. There are pieces of my story that I will never share on here, because this isn't a safe place for it. But there are other pieces that, while vulnerable, I have searched and deemed safe enough, or at least worth enough the risk that someone may be affected in a positive way.]
I graduated from St. Thomas Choir School at age 15. But in those four years I was there, I learned to suppress my own emotions, and to deny my own needs and feelings, not because it wasn't "good for boys to have," but rather because there was just a lot to do and a lot to keep up with.
In some ways, I grew a lot. The last three years I consistently got almost-straight-As on my report cards, and that included not only the staple middle-school classes (English, math, science, history, foreign languages, and art), but also music theory, theology, choir, piano lessons, and P.E./sport. I went from a kid that was so homesick that he had trouble paying attention in choir to being what Dr. H referred to as one of the best boy singers and leaders he'd ever had. And by the time I came along to the choir school, he'd been Organist and Master of Choristers for 25 years. So that's saying something.
But there was a cost. I experienced and became acclimated to life without the parents and learned independence. But even with all the adults there to supervise and mentor us, there was a limit on what they could give. For a kid whose parents lived farther away than anyone else's, the mentorship I received didn't offset the other stuff I needed that only my original parents could provide.
When I returned home, my goal was attaining all the people and attention I'd left behind. What I didn't realize was that everything was different, that I was different. I spent the next 12 years crying out desperately for something I didn't need, simply because what I really was crying out for was misplaced.
In 2009 I had the opportunity to stay employed with AmeriCorps by choosing to move to Austin, Minnesota. I balked. It was too far to drive. I couldn't afford a move. I was looking towards grad school and moving to the middle of nowhere would derail me. Last year I used some of the same excuses when my department moved to Batavia, Illinois. Too far. Too costly. Not worth it. I'm not saying that these reasons were wrong, but it makes so much more sense now: I chose to enter unemployment instead of staying employed both times because of what all came up for me when I lived in New York.
I don't want to spend any more of my life being homesick. I want to live.
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