Regress [re-gress] verb /// the act or state of moving backwards, to retreat to a previous and especially worse or more primitive state or condition. Regression is the exact antonym of progression. Moving backwards in time, motion and sense of self.
Coming back home from school means more than one thing, other than no longer being able to run into your ex hookup on campus or having to wake up for your 9:30, coming back for break means so much more than that. Being back home from school is like walking on to a different planet, everything is exactly the same but also the exact opposite. Settling back home, living with your parents again, visiting your favorite coffee spots and even sleeping in your own bed for as long or as short of a week is quite bizarre when you think about it. We are expected to come home, after making a life for ourselves elsewhere, and conform to our guardians rules and regulations for this temporary stay.
Running into half of your highschool, greeting neighbors as if you remember their names and seeing the kids across the street you babysit that are now in middle school is an absolute mind fuck. Of course time has past but not that much, right? Back for a week means being back in highschool for a week. Sneaking around to smoke or drink, making an appropriate curfew, not sleeping the day away and snapchatting your high school prom date are all the ingredients for a recipe of regression and disaster.
We are young adults living with older adults with a power struggle torn between restriction and autonomy. Being so used to our own ways, own routines and own lives makes coming home that much harder. It’s not that most people do not want to come home but most people do not want to be judged, monitored or dictated, especially after getting a taste of freedom. No longer being able to hit the bong in your bed or skip your class to sleep in till noon, we now wake up to the voices of our parents telling us to get out of bed and walk the dog.
“Welcome home!”, they say as you enter the front door with half your closet although you’re only home for four and a half days. Greeted by your dog clawing at your leg and your mothers warm embrace brings back a nostalgic flashback of what life used to be before you even knew what a frat was or how to shotgun. As many people may view the idea of coming home for breaks as negative, I wanted to shed some positive light on the topic to embody all its benefits.
Although our independence may be slightly diminished, we should take this time home to reflect and reconsider our opinions on life, people and places. It’s like a math equation, original minus the new, over the original, will give you your answer. Are you happy where you are? Are you content with yourself? If you told your highschool self where you are now, would you be proud?
Is there a way to successfully regress? Is it possible coming home brings us back to the ground, deflating our large heads of all the nonsense of school, boys and greek life? Could it be true that coming home is almost a necessity, to ground us and remind of us of who we are and how we got here? In my opinion, yes, yes it is possible to successfully regress and do all the things you once loved to do even if those things no longer fit you but only give you a taste of what life used to be like. On that note, welcome home.