After my parents died and I lost my job, I moved out of my hometown and swore I'd never go back. But returning home helped me heal.
- After my parents' deaths and other failures, I decided to move to California and follow my dreams.
- I was able to start the life I always wanted, but then I had to return home for an emergency.
Early on Independence Day, 2017, I visited my adult son's house to say goodbye, and then I hit the road.
Having been laid off after a 25-year career and recovering from severe and debilitating depression, I was running away from everything that didn't work out in my hometown in Iowa. The list was long: marriage, sustainable romantic relationships, emotional mastery, financial prowess, and health. Plus, I was grieving the deaths of my parents.
I wasn't concerned about my "failures," though. I was laser-focused on creating a new reality in California. I had the joy, excitement, and unshakable belief that I could be anything I wanted and my new life could be completely different than the one I stepped away from. I was certain my hometown was limiting me, and my future could be as bright as I chose.
With Jo Dee Messina's "Bye-Bye" blaring and the only belongings I chose to keep filling my SUV, I set out to start a new life in California.
At 46, I was leaving Des Moines, Iowa, and vowed never to return.
I quickly created a new reality and had no desire to go back to my old life
Back home in Iowa, I often retreated to codependency, fawning, and self-abandonment; those habits were survival mechanisms for me. Particularly with family members, I always felt like I had a certain role to fulfill, which meant putting other people's needs above mine.
But my priorities changed on the west coast. The sunshine, the mountains, and all the activities in California inspired me. I built my business as an entrepreneur, established collaborations, and developed cherished friendships in various communities.
While I didn't know it at the time, my move to California was an opportunity to heal the trauma I experienced and address the seemingly endless amount of limiting beliefs that held me back.
They say you can't heal in the same environment that made you sick, and I could see how that was true for me. Because I was learning to fulfill my needs and become my own person, I felt it was easier to stay away from home and all its traumas — and instead focus solely on taking care of myself.
Then I got a call that brought me home
Seven years after I made the move, I got one of "those" calls — a call that comes out of the blue and delivers heartbreaking news you'd never expect.
Imagine my surprise when that unexpected set of circumstances and events led me to consider returning to Iowa for a short trip. When I told one of my Iowa friends I was coming home, she said, "You didn't really think you could heal all the way without returning to the 515 (the Des Moines area code), did you?"
A few days later, I was on my way home, nervous I would fall back into my old ways and re-experience my trauma.
But while spending time with friends and family in Iowa, I had a startling realization: While life in California is good and serves me well, it's still just as imperfect as my life in Iowa was. I'm still me but in a different place, which helped me open my heart up to Iowa in a new way.
My former self believed I had to run away to heal and find happiness.
But my more healed self now knows it's essential to accept, love, and integrate the imperfect pieces of my life. Instead of running from the imperfections or trying to eliminate them, I embraced my humanity, became more accepting, and appreciated the parts my "failures" played in my story.
Being back in the 515 was the ultimate integration. It was a nervous system reset — nourishing in ways I didn't expect. I slept soundly, danced with reckless abandon, laughed heartily, ate joyfully, and easily digested all the experiences.
Based on this, I won't be afraid to return to my original home — and even stay for a while.