Conversations About Leaving Home

by Jonathan Valenzuela Mejia

Photograph by Ruth Chincanchan

“Papá, me voy a mudar a la universidad.”

For years, I wanted to say those words to my dad. I love my father and my family with all my heart, but attending a college on the other side of the state finally gave me the opportunity to move out on my own for the first time last year. I wanted to experience a new life, one different than I grew up with, and I finally made the decision to go forward and pursue the life I desired.

Despite the COVID-19 outbreak postponing the date, my dad and I both knew that I would have to move out of our home eventually. Although it was hard for him to see another one of his children leave the nest, he knew it was best for my education. My father and I had fought hard for me to have an opportunity like being able to study at UCLA, and we would not squander it just so I could stay home. When the time finally came, I knew a part of him struggled with the news. He had relied on me to help around the house and take care of my little sister. However, he supported me wholeheartedly and encouraged me to forge a life of my own.

“No te preocupes, lo arreglo yo, tú ve y hazte una vida por ti mismo allá.”

These words represented his blessing, but I knew they were more for my benefit than his. His approval meant the world, and I would not have been able to take the final step without it.

The worst part is the guilt—the guilt that replaces the rush of excitement of achieving a goal, of taking a leap towards a future you have dreamed of.

Ultimately, I felt like a traitor that had abandoned his family, and the feeling still persists to this day. It is bittersweet to have the opportunity to study at a university because I know my father would have wanted to but was never afforded the same privilege.

“What if I had gone to the school close by instead? It was a mistake coming here. I don’t know why I chose UCLA when I had a perfectly good option close to home.”

Every time that the smallest thing goes wrong while I am at UCLA, these thoughts loop through my head like clockwork. Likewise, when something big happens back home, the voice persists despite the fact that coming here was the best decision I could have made for myself. Beyond that, I carry the weight of no longer being able to watch my little sister grow up. I played a fundamental role in the first six years of her life, but now I am gone. This is a feeling that many older siblings can relate to when moving away for college. We essentially took on a role similar to a parent, and when we move on to make a life of our own, it can feel as if we have abandoned our own child.

Ultimately, my conversations with my father are what helps me push past the guilt and stay motivated. By attending UCLA, I am indirectly allowing him to achieve his dreams of obtaining a higher education. Similarly, I try to remember that my sister will be able to look up to me, to see an example of someone going to college, and find herself unafraid to make a dream for herself. Being here, over 300 miles away from my home and those I love most has hurt a lot, but it has also made me stronger.

“Primero en la familia, nunca lo olvides.”

We, the children who left our homes, whether we are ten miles away or 1,000, share similar experiences. We feel the guilt and shame of thinking of ourselves for once, often avoiding conversations on this topic, since they can be heartbreaking and difficult to have.

However, these discussions are what keep us going. They remind us of why we are here, why we pursue the topics we are studying, and why we are the person our families helped shape us to be. They uplift us and prompt us to work so hard out of love—love for our families and communities— to ensure that those who come after us have an example and are able to take that step and choose themselves when the need arises.

“Papá, me voy a mudar a la universidad.”

For years, I wanted to say those words to my dad. I love my father and my family with all my heart, but attending a college on the other side of the state finally gave me the opportunity to move out on my own for the first time last year. I wanted to experience a new life, one different than I grew up with, and I finally made the decision to go forward and pursue the life I desired.

Despite the COVID-19 outbreak postponing the date, my dad and I both knew that I would have to move out of our home eventually. Although it was hard for him to see another one of his children leave the nest, he knew it was best for my education. My father and I had fought hard for me to have an opportunity like being able to study at UCLA, and we would not squander it just so I could stay home. When the time finally came, I knew a part of him struggled with the news. He had relied on me to help around the house and take care of my little sister. However, he supported me wholeheartedly and encouraged me to forge a life of my own.

“Recuerda quien eres, porque eso es lo que te ayuda a seguir adelante.”

Photograph by Ruth Chincanchan

“No te preocupes, lo arreglo yo, tú ve y hazte una vida por ti mismo allá.”

These words represented his blessing, but I knew they were more for my benefit than his. His approval meant the world, and I would not have been able to take the final step without it.

The worst part is the guilt—the guilt that replaces the rush of excitement of achieving a goal, of taking a leap towards a future you have dreamed of. Photograph by Ruth Chincanchan