I spent a long weekend in New York City about a week ago.
I have to say it’s nice, but it’s just not my style.
Too many people, it’s way too expensive and it’s too loud for my taste.
Over the past few years as an adult, I have hit quite a few major cities in the U.S., including Boston, Tampa, Buffalo, Chicago and San Francisco.
Every city I have traveled to has been cool to see but after two or three days I start to miss home.
I miss my bed, my mom, my rabbits and things I never eat or drink except when I am home – like Better Made chips and Faygo.
This column is not about how much I love Michigan. I could go on for pages if I wanted to.
This column is kind of about “home,” but I will get to that at the end.
Over the past two weeks with starting a new job (and most likely ending it), traveling to NYC, fighting a severe case of senioritis and coaching high school girls soccer, I have been overwhelmed.
If any of you reading this knows me or has read my columns before, you know I have some mild anxiety and depression issues.
Well, this past Friday was a bad day for those. In my post-St. Patrick’s day fog, I had just a bad day.
My school work had piled up, work was slow and my girls soccer team decided to give me a hard time.
High school girls are the only population on earth who can make you feel magnificent about yourself and then five minutes later have you feeling like a total waste of life.
It must be the hormones, and the wrath of the hormones got to me.
I live in Mt. Clemens, and I coach in northern Oakland County, so I have lots of time to think and clear my head when I drive 35 minutes to an hour every day.
Normally, this helps even my mood but not Friday.
When I got home, I wanted to do a rain dance in traffic.
So I texted one of my friends. I text this friend anytime I feel super down because she normally has a way with words and can help me find a silver lining even in the worst of times.
I had been in contact with her the past week more often than in the past year because we’re both super busy.
We’ve been friends for almost five years.
When I met her, I was legitimately scared of her. Don’t ask me why: I just have a list of illegitimate fears.
Over time, we became really good friends, despite being super different.
On Friday I just felt like hope was lost, like I had failed at life.
After a quick ten message pep text, surveying my personal growth over the past five years, I felt a lot better.
After this I was thinking about “home” and why I have a strong sense of home in metro Detroit.
Home to me is not a place but more of a state of mind.
Home is where one goes to feel safe, where one’s loved ones are. In my thinking, that’s why I feel so much better here.
I was watching the basketball tournament Saturday and the color guy used the phrase “dance with the one who brought you” referring to a player who had led the team to the NCAA tournament but had not played much in the current game.
For some reason, that phrase stuck with me.
My point with this column is that no matter what, when you’re in a bind or you feel overwhelmed, go back to the people who got you to where you are.
It just so happens for me, and probably for you as well, those people happen to be back home.
