During the holidays, I’m reminded of how far the space is between the life I live in DC and the one where I was raised. It is not always easy to be the one who left. To create a path for yourself that deviates from your family of origin. It can make you feel as though you live two different lives, that there are two different versions of you. On the plane ride over I transform into my childhood self.

There is so much beauty in how I was raised, and I have so much for love for my family. On a weekly basis, I was surrounded by family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and, of course, the grandparents at the center. We were our own village. We celebrated everything and mourned tragedies together. With a large family, we had our fair share of tragedies. I am grateful for this built-in support network, for the togetherness, for this deeply ingrained sense of protection.

But there are costs to a strong, family-centric childhood, especially one with its fair share of groupthink. And togetherness does not necessarily mean connection.

In my family, and I imagine in many others, there was right and there was wrong, and we were expected to conform. The expectations were heavy. Sometimes they were spoken and sometimes they were not. But they were known whether or not there were words attached to them.

Going against the grain, deviating from the norm, was not celebrated. It was met with disdain. I could feel the disappointment. The tension was suffocating. What is wrong with this person? This person must think they are better.

For much of my life, I did whatever I could to meet expectations. I did what I was told to do. I called and checked in on who I was supposed to. I went where I was supposed to go. I did not push back even when I wanted to. I went with the program. I was the giver and the high achiever. Do you need something? I’ll get it. Do you have something to say? I’ll hold it.

I craved acceptance and this was what I believed I had to do to get it. Who am I if I’m not doing something for others? I craved the attention I received when I did things for other people. I needed to feel like I was enough.

I feel I should clarify that I do not think meeting expectations and doing things for others is inherently a problem. However, in my case, it did not always feel I had a choice, not if I wanted to be loved by others. My family valued harmony over individuality. I learned to value harmony and avoided conflict at all costs. Over time, it became difficult to know why I was making the choices I was. Was it for me? Was it because I wanted to do x, y or z? Or was it because of someone else? Because it is what they expected of me?

Expectations are a problem if they leave you with zero space to make your own choices. They are a problem if you wear them as an identity. My self-worth was tied to what I was giving to others and how I was performing according to other people’s expectations. THIS was the problem.

Tying your self-worth to others, even your family, is a trap. Always. Creating a role for yourself where only perfection is acceptable is destructive. Always. And I’ve had to work for years into adulthood to rewire my brain to see it this way.

I am the person who left the family unit to pursue a life different than theirs. For 12 years, I’ve had to convince myself that it is okay to have made that choice. It is not selfish. It does not mean I think I am better than anyone else. It does not make me a bad person. I am loveable even when I do not conform. Even when I do not meet expectations.

Whenever I am home, I am even more aware of the choice I made and of the space between who I was and who I am trying to be. I am told what I will be doing instead of asked what I want to do. I am reminded that I am different. That I’ve gone down a path less traveled. For my family, they think that is DC, but I know the more important path has been the one inward. That is what has changed me.

This last trip home for Thanksgiving was difficult. I did not feel accepted. I did not feel seen for the person I am today. I spent most of the time doing things for others, but not feeling any appreciation for it. I am realizing that the appreciation I want is not a thank you, it is space in these relationships to be myself.

I may never get this from some of the people I want it from. Is it frustrating as hell? YES. But that’s okay. I’m learning to detach, that there is value in just owning what you can control. Your needs, wants, and desires.

I want to take up space with all versions of me. And guess what? All those versions are enough. 😊

Cue ‘Closer to Free’ by Bodeans