I feel like there is no connection between where I am now and where I want to be.
Right now, I feel stuck. I have a list of things I want to achieve, goals if you want to call them. I haven’t written them down because there’s something concrete about seeing them on paper. If I leave them in my head, they can stay dreams. Fairytales. Things I want but don’t entirely believe will happen. The moment I write them down, they stop feeling like possibilities and start feeling like reminders of everything I haven’t accomplished yet. Almost like they’re laughing back at me, mocking me for believing they were ever attainable. So, what are these laughable goals? In no particular order: find a new job, move to New England, make friends, and fall in love. The first one seems simple enough.
I work at a job that I hate. I’m a tour guide at a distillery over an hour away from where I live. People always ask why I drive that far, and honestly, the answer is pretty simple. I was desperate, and I needed the money. Lately, though, I feel less like a tour guide and more like a walking advertisement for the company. Tours are supposed to be capped at a certain number of guests, but I’ve learned that if it means making more money, they’ll squeeze as many people into a tour as they possibly can. Last week I was scheduled to have six guests. I ended up with sixteen. We didn’t even have the physical space for that many people, but somehow it became my responsibility to make it work. I make fifteen dollars an hour regardless of whether I’m giving a tour to six people or sixteen. The workload triples, but the pay stays exactly the same. Every day I feel like another piece of my energy gets squeezed out of me.
It would be different if I actually loved what I was doing.
I’ve had jobs that I genuinely enjoyed before, so I know they exist. According to my parents, though, “all jobs suck,” and you just have to accept that. I’ve never really believed that. I don’t expect every day to be exciting, but I do believe work can be rewarding. I have a few careers that interest me, but then there’s the dream job. I want to work in the events industry, whether that’s as a venue coordinator or an event coordinator. Ideally, I’d love to organize events centered around the things I’m most passionate about: music, travel, food, and beverages. Pop-ups, festivals, community events, experiences that bring people together. Unfortunately, opportunities like that are few and far between in the Midwest. Which leads me to the next goal.
I also don’t want to live in the Midwest anymore. I don’t hate it, because in my mind the land did nothing wrong. It’s the people, the lack of opportunities, and the memories attached to this place. There are too many people here that I would be perfectly fine never seeing again. Honestly, I could probably count on one hand the number of people I would actually miss. More than anything, I think I just need a fresh start. A big part of that is because of my family. There’s too much to unpack there right now, but I’ve reached a point where I genuinely think I could go no contact with my parents. A couple of months ago I unintentionally did a sort of test run. We lived in the same house, yet somehow we went over a month without talking or even really seeing each other. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. What surprised me most wasn't the silence. It was that neither of them seemed to notice. There were no comments about how we hadn't talked in weeks or how we barely crossed paths. Nothing. On the other hand, if my sister goes two days without talking to my mom, my mom immediately notices and comments on it. One month passed for me, and it didn't seem to matter.
Sometimes I forget that I even have a dad. That probably sounds harsh, but it’s true. We hardly talk, and somehow I always end up feeling blamed for my parents' relationship problems. Both times I lived in Florida he never called me or even sent a text. That alone probably tells you everything you need to know about our relationship.
My sister is more complicated.
She lives in Florida now, so I don’t get to see her often. I try to call her every few days, but she never really calls me. If I stopped reaching out altogether, I honestly don't think I would hear from her. It's always me making the effort. Lately she's been frustrated because she doesn't have her dream job, at least not yet. I completely understand being disappointed. I've been there for a long time. What’s difficult is that it becomes everyone else's burden too. I’m not trying to compare our lives, but sometimes it feels like she doesn't realize how much she already has. So many of the things she takes for granted are things I would give almost anything for right now. Growing up, I always imagined we'd have one of those stereotypical sister relationships where we'd naturally stay close. It took me a long time to accept that we probably never will.
Then there's my brother.
He's the only person in my family I completely trust. I honestly think I could tell him anything. Ironically, we're not very close either. He's home for the summer, yet we barely talk. When he's away at school, communication is even harder. I wish we were closer. A couple of years ago, the three of us were driving to our grandparents' house on Christmas Eve, and I remember saying that we should promise never to drift apart the way our parents had with their siblings. They agreed. It felt important at the time. Then my sister moved to Florida, my brother stayed at college, and life slowly happened. I guess that's the thing about promises. Sometimes they aren't broken all at once. Sometimes they just quietly fade away.
I don’t really have any friends. If we’re counting, I have one. It’s not like it’s some lifelong friendship that runs incredibly deep either. We’ve definitely gotten closer, especially after our trip to Boston, but I wouldn’t put it in "best friend" territory. I wish I had more friends. I’m just not very good at making them. The one friend I do have is someone I’ve known since high school. Part of me also hasn’t put much effort into making new friends because of New England. My thought process has always been, why build friendships here if I’m just going to move? I’ll make friends once I get there.
Then there’s the last goal. The most laughable one of all. Falling in love.
It almost feels less like a goal and more like a ghost that quietly follows me around. Even writing those words feels a little ridiculous. Love has always seemed like a foreign concept to me. I understand that it exists. I see it in other people. I just struggle to picture it happening to me. It’s like love and I exist in a Venn diagram where the circles never overlap. I wouldn’t say I deserve love, but I also wouldn’t say I don’t deserve it. It’s difficult to explain. It just feels... distant. The idea of me falling in love almost feels fictional, like believing in magic. Of course I want it. I think most people do. It just doesn’t feel realistic.
And, if I’m being honest, I’m not doing much to change that either. Because of New England.
Once again, I tell myself that maybe it will happen there. Maybe I’ll meet new people there. Maybe I’ll build the life I’ve always imagined there. I also feel like I should point out that I said almost the exact same thing before I moved to Florida. That realization brings me to something I’ve been avoiding this entire time. Somewhere along the way, New England stopped being a place I wanted to live and quietly became the answer to all of my problems.
A new job? New England.
A fresh start? New England.
Distance from my family? New England.
Friends? New England.
Love? New England.
I’m aware that my brain has created that connection. I know moving somewhere doesn’t magically solve loneliness, depression, or uncertainty. I already learned that lesson once when I moved to Florida. I thought a new location would automatically create a new life, but reality didn’t really cooperate. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe it won’t. The truth is, I don’t know. I just know that I’ve attached so much hope to one place that I’m scared of what happens if it doesn’t become everything I’ve imagined. If New England doesn’t fix my life, then I’ll have to accept that no place can. That maybe the life I’m searching for isn’t waiting for me somewhere else. Maybe it’s something I have to build wherever I end up.
I hope that isn’t true.
But I’m scared that it is.