Pulled Between Two Lives

Working remotely, while slightly draining, has had its benefits. Being able to sleep in until the last possible second (and maybe sometimes slightly past that) and my ability to work anywhere are among them. That latter perk means I’ve been able to work from my parents’ apartment in the Chicago area. It has been a strange experience for me to say the least, not because anything particularly out of the ordinary has happened, but because I feel stuck between two lives.

One of those lives is here in Chicago. I spent seven full years and four years of holidays in this apartment with my parents and my dog. In my bedroom here, I put together the various pieces of furniture and the “Game of Thrones“ posters on the walls are mine. (I got the posters before the last season.) However, my closet is now being used for storage and I can’t get in, there is a large chair in the middle of my room, and most of my things are no longer here.

My other life is in Boston. I have a boyfriend and an adorable kitten who is very needy for attention. My kitchen is stocked with all of my favorite spices and my four necessary coffee making machines … I’ve been told I have a problem. But my parents and my dog aren’t there. 

Whenever I am in one “life,” I miss the other. Currently, I am missing my space, my boyfriend, and my cat. It also feels like I’m trying to squish my new life into this one: I am working at the bedroom desk I never used in high school and using a virtual background on Zoom to hide my room’s teenage aspects.

But when I am in Boston, I miss my parents, my dog, and sometimes even drive-through restaurants. My mom raised me to be independent and have my own life, but a part of me won’t ever be ready to give this one up.

I am sure I’m not the only young adult living far from home that’s struggling with this dilemma. However, Huntington’s disease adds a new level of complication for me. My mother, who has Huntington’s, is still asymptomatic, so I want to spend as much time with her as I can right now. I know that with Huntington’s, patients experience cognitive decline at varying rates, meaning I have no idea how much time we have left. The thought of not having the same smart, sarcastic, hilarious mother that I have now scares me. But I also know that she wouldn’t want me to give up my entire life to move home. I know it will be about finding a balance, but it’s hard not to feel continually pulled between the two lives.

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