This Place Isn't My Home But It Is The Place That Built Me.

Have you ever felt like somewhere is just too small for you? Like your personality or your being is just too big for where you are? This is how I feel about Carroll. People in my life keep trying to convince me that I should stay here. And I appreciate that they don't want me to go - well most of them, anyway. 

Here's the truth of it, though. I've never felt like I can truly be me, here. This town is notorious for wanting to label people, wanting everyone to fit in their identical little redneck, conservative box. But that has never been me. 

Even as a child, I resisted being labeled. I remember saying - many times - that I don't do labels. I never belonged to any of the cliques - though I did talk to people in each one. I was the weird girl that was funny, a bit crazy, a bit mysterious, and kind of scary - apparently. That last one still makes me chuckle. 

I was the girl with the deliberately mismatched socks and earrings, who wore her hair long on one side and beaded braids on the other. As we got older and into high school, I was the girl that was always angry due to the well of dark secrets she was hiding. I dealt with that by being high all the time, mastering the art of brutal sarcasm, fighting mouthy girls from rival schools, and making sure that the less than popular kids at my school were not being bullied. 

I can't say that my high school days were torture, because they were not. Well, what I remember of them. I did mention that I was high most of the time... right... 

I wasn't bullied or anything. I did talk to most of the people in my own grade. But I had very few people that I was close to. And those that I did spend most of my time with, well, they were pretty shallow relationships. We were mostly about getting high or drunk while we had bonfires in the fields or camped out at Buckeye Lake or hung out in cemeteries. We were about laughing and convincing ourselves that we were having fun and that we were okay. Because we were all running from some kind of less than stellar life. 

For me, it was being unable to talk about what was really going on inside of me. I couldn't tell anyone about being sexually assaulted at 8 years old, because I had been forbidden to do so. I couldn't tell anyone that I did not believe in their God because you just didn't say things like that in this small Ohio town. And I couldn't tell anyone that I found girls more attractive than boys. OR that I had already had a few girlfriends. I couldn't tell anyone that my first kiss had been with a girl. I couldn't tell anyone that the best sexual encounter I had was with a girl. Because that definitely did not happen in small Ohio towns. 

These days, I am much healthier, mentally. I have been out for about 10 years. Most of the town ignores that fact and if I bring it up, they laugh as if I am telling a joke. A few people did quit talking to me. And then there are the amazing few that have not only been accepting, but listen when I need to talk about it, send me LGBTQ memes, post Pride messages on their social media, and are just a completely safe and loving space for me. 

But, as much as I love those people, the need to get away from this town, and this state, grows stronger by the day. The certainty that there is a place out there where I fully and completely belong looms over me. Somewhere are people who know exactly what I feel and think because they have been there. 

And they are not in a small town. My place is in the city. I have considered a few cities in the last year. But the call of New York City is still the loudest. Despite all the people who are telling me how expensive it is there - as if I haven't done my research on that city and many others, including Columbus (insert eye roll here) - but I just feel like that is where I need to be. And if it is, somehow it will work out. 

I shared a meme, not long ago, that said "I love the theory that, if a city attracts you, it's because there is something waiting for you, and your story there has already been written.' And that spoke to me. That is exactly what I feel when I think of New York and of living there.

It amuses me how much I want out of this village and to get to New York, yet there are more than one musical about getting out of the city and finding freedom in a small town. In The Outsiders, Johnny and Ponyboy want to leave Tulsa for a country town. In Newsies, Jack Kelly sings about leaving NYC for Santa Fe (which was, maybe, a small town back in 1899) and in God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, Eliot leaves the city for a small town in Indiana. 

In Newsies, Jack tells Crutchie "You can can keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town." Unfortunately, that's not how it works here. Believe it or not, it is very easy to get lost in a small town. Here people only see what they want to see. And if they don't like what they see, or don't agree with it, you will be 'erased' and 'forgotten' in the blink of an eye. 

To be different your whole life - and to be rejected, over and over, because of it - it destroys something inside of you. And when you're rejected by family and friends and romantic partners - you learn that you only truly have yourself. When you do meet someone that says they love and accept you completely - well, that is a very scary place to be and a very hard thing to trust. 

When I say rejected, I don't just mean being turned away from. I also mean when people put conditions on if they spend time with you. I mean when someone tries to change who you are, how you love, and what you love. These are all forms of rejection. None of them are acceptable. If someone cannot love you and appreciate you - along with absolutely everything about you - then they do not deserve you or your time or what you have to offer. 

And some might say that, by me wanting to leave this place, I am running away. I have considered that. However, as I have faced all of the trauma and pain that this place has caused me over the years, there is nothing left to run away from. I have been on a journey of healing and acceptance, for a few years now. 

In the Maze Runner, Thomas gives this great speech to Gally about why they need to escape the maze. During the speech he says "We don't belong here. This place isn't our home. We were put here. We were trapped here. At least out there, we have a choice. We can make it out of here." Every time I watch this movie,  those words hit me just as hard as they did the first time I heard them back in 2014. They give me hope and they inspire me to keep fighting for the life I want. To keep chasing that dream.

What I am looking for, away from this little town, is a fresh start. I am looking for a community of people who think like me and feel like me and love like me. I am looking for a place that will make my soul shine it's brightest colors. I am looking for a place where I can be fully and truly me. I am looking for somewhere that is truly home.