Growing up in the suburbs of southern California, I knew a few things to be true about my family. Most importantly, I knew that all we had were each other. Unlike my friends at school, we did not have any extended family. There were no big Thanksgivings, hangouts with our cousins, or sleepovers at our grandparents’ house.
It was just us four, navigating the differences between the Western culture we lived in and the Eastern culture of our roots.
I grew up in Los Angeles as the eldest daughter of an immigrant family. My parents had left their motherland in search of new possibilities in this one. The only family they would have here was the one that they would go on to create: my little sister and me.
But all that changed when I landed a job in a different city after college.
My parents encouraged me to move
When I received my acceptance letter to a university in Los Angeles, I was reassured that I would not be too far from home. When I was not on campus, I was back in my childhood living room, catching up with my little sister over our favorite boba orders and proudly taking pictures of her high school theater performances. I was playing Chinese checkers with my mom on our dining room table, followed by walking our family pup with my dad under the palm trees.
Meanwhile, in college, my life was actively progressing. By the end of my degree, I landed a dream job that would be the first building block of my future career.
It was based in Seattle.
All my life, my parents had encouraged me to go where the opportunity is. After all, that is what led them to America, where they were able to give their children the childhood they never had. In their eyes, if Seattle was where the opportunity was, that is where I should go.
“The flight is not too far,” my mom said, “but we will miss you.”
I couldn’t shake the guilt of leaving my family
I felt a continuous wave of internal conflict. On one hand, I was excited to experience something new. On the other hand, I felt guilty for leaving my already small family.
When I asked my friends if they ever felt guilty about moving away from home, I was surprised by their responses. For most of them, it never even crossed their minds. They chose to move because they never saw themselves living in the same area they grew up in, and they knew it would not provide the industries they needed.
They took possibly never living near their parents again as a given part of adulthood. Their parents share this belief and, like mine, encouraged them to carve out the life path that best suits them.
Perhaps my guilt stemmed from the fact that I was choosing to leave a city that could potentially offer similar career prospects. Would I feel the same guilt about moving away if my family were located somewhere I did not feel as warmly about?
Eventually, I did talk myself into taking the job. As I settled into Seattle, I thought about how my grandparents felt when their daughter moved across the ocean from China to America. By comparison, my living just a few states away felt minor.
“How did you feel when Mom told you she was considering leaving home?” I asked my grandma over video chat.
“She needed to make her own decisions on what she thought was best for her life, but I did secretly cry about it,” she told me. “I made sure your mother never saw because I did not want it to influence her decision.”
I made the right decision
Beyond my career, living on my own gave me the space to understand myself more deeply. I began sharing my self-discovery journey online with “Eldest Daughter Club” and grew it into a community of other women doing the same. I found different forms of family as I bridged the distance between my own.
I called my family often and planned routine trips back home. Although our in-person time was now more limited, I made sure that a larger percentage of it was true quality time.
Guilt was the feeling that encompassed the discomfort of leaving behind the familial support system that I had always counted on. In the end, support transcends location.
We must all make the decisions on what we think is best for our lives. Guilt is just a signal of what you cherish, but it does not tell your whole story. That is for us to build, wherever we decide to call home.
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