“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”
I think we’ve all heard this quote. And while it may not be true for every individual, I think it can find its place in many facets of life.
I have a lot of places that have felt like home to me. But unfortunately, I spent so much time in those places that there is a lot of bad that is equated to the good. My childhood home was a tough place for me to grow up, so I don’t hold any good memories anymore. New Hampshire was a real home to me, but now I feel so much pain behind leaving it. Going down the shore used to be a place of solace, but now it reminds me of things I’ve lost.
For example, we have a shore house that I love to go to. When we first got it, I spent a lot of time there to get a break from my anxiety hangovers in college. I would go see my grandpa who lived on the same street and I would spend some time alone. But then my grandpa passed away and I felt like such a huge part of the end of his life where he just missed my grandma so much and was losing parts of himself. In one way I was happy to be there at the end, in another I wish I hadn’t had to see the pain he was in. It’s one sad thing that happened to me that takes over all the happy that happened.
I’m sure most people can get past the 1 or 2 bad things that happen in the places they love. But as an overthinker with anxiety, they’re hard for me to get past. It’s like every good memory I have brings up a pit-in-the-stomach bad feeling too. It makes me sad because I want to look back on my life and be happy with everything I’ve done and everywhere I’ve been, but I’ve always had a bad habit of harping on the disappointing parts of life.
I’ve stuck around long enough for these places to become the villain. It’ll eventually happen to every place I love, because if you’re committing to happy memories somewhere then you’ll inevitable have bad ones too.