From a young age, my family was very separated. I have always seen it as “mom’s side” and “dad’s side,” ever since my parents broke up when I was a child. Though they were better off apart, I had trouble feeling close to my family. My mom always had the same problem. But I’ve really begun to see how much of a mistake it is not to closely connect with your family if they are there and willing to accept you. For me, it was always easier to bond with friends. Lately, life has taught me to be sorry for not making family my foundation sooner.

In the beginning of the school year, I moved to a city (I’d always lived in the suburbs) into an apartment with an almost stranger, started a new school in which I knew no one and was hired at Starbucks, a new store to me with its own way of running and unique set-up, after not working in any Starbucks for a long while. Everything was unfamiliar, it seemed. Back home, my mom’s side of the family was coping with a death, and it prompted my mom to rebuild some bridges. Seeing her reach out like that, I begun to realize how much family members had tried to reach out and engage with me over the years and how I did not fully return these gestures.

I often tried to be independent and this was especially true when I transferred. I left my old school, its comfort of familiarity and all my friends, and I had done all the paperwork and the essays and the running around to get things signed. I had unpacked things myself when, after helping me move the boxes up to my apartment, my stepdad had to go back home for a forgotten box. I had taken the T to campus for orientation on my own. I had made all my own new friends. I bought a lot of my own food, and I had to start to actually make my own meals. I thought it was fine. I didn't need my family, really. I was learning how to take care of myself. Of course, I was wrong. It doesn't have to be one or the other. You can mature and also still seek support and advice from family.

Sure enough, I was soon hit with stress, schoolwork, problems at work and some other negative experiences that sent me into a minor emotional spiral. It was then, trying to ride out my emotional low, that I really begun to miss home. I missed my sister’s pointless chatter, my dogs jumping on me for attention, my mom’s silly nickname for me, my grandma’s smile, my dad’s dumb jokes. I started to keep up communication with them more often. Phone calls, texts, emails. I wanted to remind myself they were there; my Emerson friends were helpful and kind, but they were not enough. After all, we hadn't been friends for more than a couple months.

It’s my family's contact, and my mother’s advice, that I really believe kept me from sinking even lower. All the upsetting things that happened to me since I moved to Boston, they brought one benefit at least: I feel much closer with my family now. There are not many other relationships in life like the one a person has with family, and now I can say I clearly see the immense value in it. I am so grateful for their support, and I’m certain I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Just because I'm learning to live on my own, to graduate and build a career, does not mean my family can't be right there with me.