A tale of two cities and their centers

To be honest, going "back home" has always been difficult for me. You might remember a post I did some time ago called "Who Says You Can't Go Home," but I've been thinking about it even more now. During freshman year, I would go home about once a month, both to see my family and to see the guy I was dating. Since we had a lot of mutual friends, there would be no shortage of things to do. And since I'd only be home for a weekend (or in the case of a holiday, a month), there'd be enough time to make me feel appreciated but not like it was overbearing.

Then summer came. Summer was tough. I had left that guy after finding out some sickening stuff about him, fended off his unwanted calls and attempts to contact me, and had a difficult time of trying to re-adjust to being back up north. I felt like I had returned to a puzzle I was no longer part of, a block on a Rubiks Cube trying to fit into a jigsaw puzzle. I had gone to college and found a niche, and I had none of the support or like-minded people around me. I'm not saying I was miserable, what with the family and concerts and other great things going on, but it was still a tough adjustment. I didn't know if I had changed too much, or if they just weren't the type of people I could really say I fit in with. The coming years made me even closer to the university and college community (feminists, advocates, activists, etc.), which of course made it even tougher to go back up north. When I'd get off of work, drenched in sweat and smelling like chlorine, I would check my email. It was pure torture to read messages about all the summer activities down there, with me up in my tourist trap of a hometown where one couldn't get anywhere without driving.

I think I recovered some of that sense of belonging this summer at La Casa. I received the invite for their fall banquet last weekend. Sadly, it's on a school night so I cannot attend, but it brought back all those memories of interning there. I'm not saying La Casa was perfect--it had its flaws (like the dress code!), but it was one place in that whole town where I felt I could act like myself. When I was with the staff (and NOT with the clients, that would be unprofessional), I could talk about anything I wanted and learn more about them. It was (shock*gasp) OKAY to label yourself as a feminist! I found people I could look up to; ones who weren't the stereotypical "role model" type but rather the type who lived their beliefs through their work. Halfway through it, I felt as though I was one of them and was for the first time in a long while happy to be back home. You might be thinking, "They're in your field, Alex, what did you expect?," but not everyone who is in crisis work is going to be close to me.

Before the internship began, I was somewhat reticent about going home, and I kept on thinking I would miss RCS. I did miss RCS. Now that I am back down here, I miss La Casa. Thanksgiving break is in a little under two months, and the fact that I will be doing some court dates or fundraising stuff once I get back makes me look forward to going "back home." It took me twelve years before "home" felt like home, but I guess it's better late than never.