When it came time for me to go to college, I went to an in-state college a little over an hour’s drive from my hometown. I rarely went home. My twin brother, who went to the same college, was home almost every weekend. One reason was probably to see his girlfriend, and another to have my mother do his laundry.
I would go home on the occasional weekend and holidays and when the school was closed, I don’t remember any issues at the beginning of college, in terms of going home. I had lots of issues, but I don’t remember that being one of them.
A year and a half later, and a move to a neighboring state, I began my long and winding road to healing. This is where things began to change for me.
I was about 500 miles, or an 8-hour drive from my hometown. There were times when I became afraid that my family would drop in on me, despite the distance. I could not rationalize the fear away. Of course, they never did come.
I would go back home, mainly on holidays, I would spend at least several days there and then drive back to where I lived (my home). Things started out okay, but they did not stay that way.
With my journey of healing initially starting, the ties that bind began to fray a little bit. More on that next.