Essay About Moving Away

I moved out of my grandmother’s house at the beginning of my junior year of highschool, but I know realize that part of me will always live inside that home, and that it was foolish of me to try and move on and never look back.

My grandmother has some sort of form of dementia, but to this day is unable to accept it. She was unwilling to go to any doctor to seek medical care, and as she realized her situation was quickly spiraling out of her control she turned deeper and deeper down the route of denial and projection. As the years went on the situation became progressively draining on my mother and I. There was a constant air of mistrust clouding the household. At first she forgot simply things that only caused insignificant arguments, like

It was not until my uncle called and said that everything we had left there had to be taken or it would be given away. It was a bit shocking to see my bedroom walls again, still plastered with photos of my friends and I freshman year. Piles of belongings that reminded me of past selves that I told myself I did not have room for after the move. Selves that had been tolerant of my grandmas coping methods for a situation that was spiraling out of her control. It was easier to forget the past then try to make room for it in the future. I was emotional and I could not understand why. That evening I found myself moving the rest of my belongings out from a house I told myself I had left for good two years ago. Except now I was actually moving, I was taking finally taking my childhood, my memories, my scars and transporting them with me. I was being forced to confront and handle the past. I was learning that I had not been able to run away from my past, that for two years is had been creeping behind me waiting to be confronted. Going back to my first home made me question as to if moving in the first place had been such a great decision. Since that day I have been in contact with my grandmother, and I have visited her multiple times. I do not necessarily regret moving out of my grandmother’s house, I regret not returning for two years. I regret leaving significant parts of my life behind because I was unwilling to readjust and find