The Bittersweet Duality of Coming Home

Moving back to Texas felt like coming full circle. After years of living coast to coast - from the East Coast in my early twenties to planting roots in Northern California in my thirties - I found myself returning to the state where I grew up. It was a homecoming, but not without complexity.

California was where I finally settled down. I built a life, a community, and a career there. I founded a yoga school, taught classes, trained teachers, and shared coffee dates and yoga practices with friends who became family. It was the first place I truly put down roots as an adult. So, when I made the decision to leave and start over in Texas to pursue a Doctorate in Physical Therapy, it felt like I was ripping up something sacred.

Moving back to Texas, I expected nostalgia. I didn’t expect the unfamiliarity.

Texas is home, yes - but it’s not the same home I left years ago. The cities have grown, and the rhythm of life feels different. I’m different. And starting over in a new city, even one in your home state, is surprisingly vulnerable, especially as an adult without a local community.

One of the hardest parts has been the absence of casual connection. In California, I could text a friend and meet for coffee within the hour. I could drop into a yoga class and know half the room. Here, I’m relearning how to build those relationships from scratch. Making new friends in your late thirties is hard. It takes courage and a willingness to be seen in your uncertainty.

I’ve had moments where I miss the ease of my old life deeply. I miss walking into my favorite café and being greeted by name. I miss the comfort of shared history with people who knew me through different seasons. And I miss the spontaneous joy of practicing yoga with a best friend beside me.

But I also recognize the beauty in this transition. Coming home has given me a chance to reflect on who I’ve become. It’s challenged me to grow in new ways, to stretch beyond my comfort zone, and to trust that the roots I’m planting now will eventually take hold.

As I navigate these first months back in Texas, I’m learning to hold both grief and gratitude. I grieve what I left behind, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to start anew. I’m learning that home isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling. And sometimes, it takes time to find it again.