When I moved up to Michigan, it was with a joyful heart. I was ready to leave the South, where I had lived for – save for a couple of years as a child – my entire life, and start again in a place that I felt was more aligned with my values. And it is! No place is perfect, honestly, but I didn’t wake up in a panic every morning, wondering what my stupid legislators or governor had done in the middle of the night to make my state worse than it was before.
And yet … something was missing. I didn’t feel home.
I’ve been exceptionally lonely in this Midwest mitten, and being on night shift wasn’t making the transition any easier, since making friends requires actually being able to meet people. Then, add my health issues, both mental and physical, and you’ve got a cocktail for depression. When I asked about switching to day shift, it became readily apparent that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, even after it became a doctor-prescribed remedy, so I had to start looking for alternatives.
Which led me back to Nashville.
I applied for a day shift position, similarly to how I applied for the job up here – with a complete lack of belief that they’d even consider me – and was shocked when I was offered the role. Not that I’m not qualified. I’m just used to the idea that there are plenty of other people that are better at my job than I am and why should I get a job that another person could do just as well? Look, I’m working on it, okay?
Now don’t get me wrong; I still hate Tennessee. They just elected Marsha Fucking Blackburn as the next governor, for fuck’s sake, and Justin Pearson lost to a white Republican fuckwit because of redistricting (brought on by Marsha Fucking Blackburn* – can you tell I loathe this woman?). The state managed to stay red when Mississippi, my birth state, flipped blue, something I never thought I’d see happening.
Maybe there’s some hope for this godforsaken place.
That being said, the state isn’t what I missed. It was the people: my sister, my parents, my childhood friends, my nursing school buddies, the guy I’m kind of dating (it’s complicated, y’all). They all mean so much to me, and texts and FaceTime can only do so much. Last month, I drove the RV down to store at my old house (my sister still lives there), and after spending just a few days there, I knew. Zuzu was happier, zooming around the fenced-in backyard with my sister’s dogs, and I slept well for the first time in what seemed like ages. My friends were thrilled to see me, trying to fit themselves into my limited schedule, and I took Nelson on a walk in the park that still is my happy place. I watched horror movies with my kind-of-boyfriend. It wasn’t just the familiarity (although that’s definitely a part of it); it was the community.
Of course, there were plenty of other factors that played into my decision, some personal and others practical, but they more or less acted as further justification: my father’s health, my finances, medical necessities, etc.
So I officially accepted the job and started the long list of paperwork that has to be completed before I can start.
Part of me is questioning my decision, even now, but nothing about returning to Tennessee means that I can’t come back to Michigan. Or that I can’t move somewhere else at a later date. It just means that, for the moment, I need to be near my people.
And, for the most part, I am okay with that.
* I’m seriously considering doing something along the lines of Cats on a Couch but focusing on trolling Marsha Blackburn during her term as governor. Maybe I’ll call it Marsha’s Crushed Fortune Cookie or something along those lines.
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