I spent Christmas with my family for the first time in four years this week.  To make it even more jarring, this was the first Christmas in probably seven years we celebrated in Seattle.

It's difficult for me to describe exactly how and why this was a weird holiday, but it really was.  The best way I can think to describe my mental state, behavior, and general temperament is to tell you that I reverted to my 17 year old self.  Any self-respecting adult among you has experienced the same thing.  Don't lie to yourselves.

I found myself doing things like slouching moodily in front of the open refrigerator staring at nothing.  Rather than buying the foods I wasn't finding in my parents (really full) fridge I just scrounged around.  I justified myself saying I wasn't going to be staying there every night, so I didn't want to buy something and waste it.  But would it really have been that difficult to buy some plain yogurt and a bag of arugula?

I also slept an average of eleven hours a night.  I even woke up after one ten hour sleep only to return to bed for a two hour nap.  You could say that I obviously needed it; I certainly push myself harder and sleep less in LA.  But is twelve hours honestly necessary three out of four nights?

And when my friends dropped me off at 1am (come on, that's early!) I realized I'd have to go in through the garage, probably waking my parents.  Immediately I imagined my mom meeting me at the top of the stairs, giving me the sniff-n-hug, which caused a huge twinge of anxiety.

Observing these behaviors in myself, I missed my autonomy.  It's like I wasn't able to take up an adult space in my parents house.  Through no fault of theirs, I became an emotional, antisocial, contrary little bitch, rather than asserting myself as a grownup individual.

And I missed LA.  When I thought about coming back here to my unattached single life, for the first time I felt really okay about floating free.  Maybe that's selfish, or childish, or escapist, but I am really enjoying it.  In my little world I can get as weird as I want, and when I'm pouting in front of the refrigerator I have only myself to blame.