When holding onto the past serves a purpose, even if it's not what I want

Recently, I returned to the city where I grew up for a wedding. My wonderful new partner and I stayed with my parents, and we had the chance to see friends that we hadn’t seen in quite some time.

Leading up to the departure, I felt wildly excited. We would get to explore the city together and meet each other’s besties since childhood for the first time. We would get to go to the lake, relax and have some time away from work without stress. We were going home. We were going where it all would be ok, safe and welcoming.

Except, it wasn’t.

I’ve been in New Orleans for a year and a half now, and for the first time since moving here, my return to my hometown felt awkward and vulnerable. My friends were still there, with open arms, but the connections were different. Places that had once been a haven for me were no longer. It was not home, and despite the wonderful time spent and merriment and love, I was so glad to return to Louisiana, to return… home?

But New Orleans, with its freshly familiar road ways, dear friends and the apartment I have been working on so hard to make cozy, warm and welcoming, isn’t quite home yet either. It is becoming one, but in the mean time, I am emotionally, quite homeless., neither here nor there. And, let me tell you dear friends, it can be quite nerve wracking for a little zodiac cancer like me.

The fact that my former fiancé has been invading my mind, my dreams and, especially while visiting my hometown where we had lived, my memories, hasn’t been a sweet icing on the cake either.

…Except for when, amidst the inequality and misery of our relationship, at the best moments, remembering how he was able to give me a feeling of complete and utter safety and acceptance. A home, so to speak. Something I have not been able to find in a person since, and a feeling that to this day, I can conjure up at a moments notice to feel that sense of security that I so badly want.

And ooooooh does this feel good to homeless little cancer me.

But oh, do I wish it didn’t have anything to do with him.

So, why, why, why, why?

Because, habit, habit, habit.

For so many years, my ex was emotional go-to in my imagination, whenever I felt down, or scared, or alone. And now, in a time when I feel particularly vulnerable and emotionally homeless, it’s not surprising where my mind goes.

Although I don’t want him in my head, he serves a purpose that is very logical and real for my current needs. I do believe though, that with time, he will no longer be the vessel for my sense of safety, home and comfort. With time, I hope to find it elsewhere, in New Orleans, in my friends here, and my surroundings, in my partner, and in myself.

In the mean time, I don’t think that my inability to find 100% comfort in a person is a bad thing. The relationship I am in now is delightful, refreshing and full of great conversation, debate and equal footing where no one is better or more authoritative than the other.  I do find so much comfort in him, just not 100%. And the fact that I don’t find 100% comfort my partner is in fact, a good thing. It allows me to learn to find my own comfort in who I am and where I am, and that is of utmost importance.