Getting Out of Your Hometown

Staying in Louisville was never my plan. 

In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was on my “absolutely not going to happen” list. 

Maybe it is because, from December-March, the sky is gray, the grass is dead, and the trees are bare. The Gene-Synder is still under construction and the Ohio River is murky as ever — what is awe-inspiring about a landscape like that? 

Maybe it is because I will go to Target at 3:00 in the afternoon and people are still wearing their pajamas. What inspiration can I find in that? 

Maybe it is because most people I know have parents that grew up here, and their parent’s parents grew up here, and their son is going to be a fourth-legacy St. X graduate. Small-town mentality is a real thing. 

There is nothing wrong with that being your dream, I just knew it wasn’t for me. 

You can see the pain I felt when I told people I was moving back home to Louisville post-grad. 

It was a respectable, mature decision: move back home with your parents, get a job, and save some money. 

However, it was never my plan. 

I thought I would move to a big city as soon as I graduated, get my dream job, and that would be the beginning of my new life. 

Reality set in and I realized that a lot goes into moving away from home. Aside from finances (which are inevitably daunting), it also entails leaving your family, boyfriend, and friends. 

It is a terrible tear of the heart, being torn between your dreams and the people you love. It feels like you can either be living your dream life but missing your people, or with your people craving your dream life. 

It is something I have been wrestling with since moving back home.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I let myself down by staying home. I feel like I chose the easy way out, or that I am less interesting now. 

Trapped in this negative headspace, with a great view of Lyndon ahead of me on the road, I heard these lyrics by the Lumineers today: 

And if the sun don’t shine on me today /

And if the subways flood and bridges break /

Will you just lay down and dig your grave? /

Or will you rail against the dying day? /

It was as if the band was smacking me in the face and telling me to bloom where I am planted.

This is exactly why my word for the year is “bloom.” 

“Blooming where you are planted” just means making the most of your circumstances. I could dig my grave here in Louisville, fixating on all the details that depress me, or I could find joy in my situation. 

I had coffee with a long-time friend of mine about two years ago. It was a time of desperation for me — I was living in my sorority house when I decided I could not be in Kentucky a semester longer and wanted to transfer to a school out in California at Christmas. This friend was the perfect therapist for this sort of occasion, as she went to Biola out in Los Angeles. 

We were driving over the bridge that connects Kentucky to Indiana when she made a great point: People from small towns appreciate things more. When you are used to making the most out of less, being around “more” is shockingly beautiful. “More” may be more things to do, people to meet, places to go, etc. When you grow up around “more” it is normal and mundane. 

We are good at finding beauty in less. 

Or, another way of putting it: no matter what kind of soil we are planted in, we are going to bloom. 

Part of my blooming process is focusing on the beautiful things that are here in my hometown. And when you look, there are many to find. 

For one, there is something beautiful about feeling known. While some may argue that this is a con about living in your hometown — everyone knows everything about you. Yet, there is also something so comforting about that. You are greeted by your name. You share memories with people. You are a familiar face. 

There is also something beautiful about knowing where you are. You know the best cup of coffee in town and the most over-rated dinner spot. You know how to avoid traffic. You know where to hang out and where to avoid. You are safe. 

There is something beautiful about having all four seasons and looking forward to the next. The coziness of winter with the hope of spring, the heat of summer with the comfort of a sweatshirt in the fall. 

There is even something beautiful about people being in their pajamas at 3:00 in the afternoon at Target. One thing the small towns do have going for them is self-image isn’t of utmost importance.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing is being around the people who made you, you. After all, home isn’t a place, it is people. And the key to blooming where you are planted is sticking your roots into some strong relationships. 

Another thing I have to remind myself is that blooming where you are planted does not mean you can’t be repotted to a new place. Once you grow out of your pot, you can always move to a bigger one. 

For the time being, I will be soaking up the soil here until I grow out of this pot, blooming exactly where I am planted.