Near the end of every year, I fly back to my hometown in Michigan to spend the holidays with my family.

The small airplane windows slowly frost over as we edge closer to the good old Lake State and when I step off the plane and my shivers turn into tangible breath, I remember why I chose to move south. But then, as I glide down to baggage claim and see my parents waiting excitedly with open arms, my eyes mist over a bit and I begin wondering if I made the right choice to leave everything I’ve ever loved behind.

Moving away from Battle Creek, Michigan after college was something I assumed I would do, but never in my wildest thoughts did I think that life would take me farther than a few hours by car. When I was 13 years old, I made the life-changing and compassionate decision to become a vegetarian. There was no a-ha moment, no lightbulb…it just was…right. I loved animals, adored them, and felt a special connection to them. I slowly began to connect the dots that Dixie, our family dog who I would do anything for, is no different than pigs or cows. If I thought it was wrong to torture, abuse, and eventually slaughter Dixie, why would I support the same behavior to other intelligent, sensitive, and beautiful animals? So that was it. The last meat I ever ate was orange chicken at a Chinese takeout restaurant at the mall (ah, the standards of a 13-year-old), and I never looked back. As I grew into a high-schooler and then a college student, my beliefs only got stronger and I eventually went vegan.

My parents accepted both my vegetarian and vegan ways, even though they chose to continue eating meat. Being raised in south Louisiana, their Cajun blood required thick slabs of sausage, pork roasts, and briskets to be served regularly, but they always made a separate meal for me, no questions asked. They never poked fun of my choices, they never doubted my passion, and when I turned 18 and protested outside of Dick Cheney’s speech at a local high school, which my parents attended as supporters, I was welcomed home with love.

I don’t think they ever realized how much their support would push me to be independent and follow my dreams. While every parent wants their child to be happy, they also kinda want them to be happy close to home, with a sensible job, a dignified spouse, and plenty of money. Well…sorry mom and dad, I kind of missed all that and just went straight for the happy part.

In college I studied advertising and promotions, and in my senior year I began interviewing at advertising agencies in Chicago (a mere three-hour drive from Battle Creek). I realized that though I would love the prestige, I’d hate the lack of meaning in my life if I took those jobs, and so I began looking for other options. PETA seemed like a perfect fit for me. Their vegetarian starter kit helped me with my decision to go vegetarian as a young girl, and I loved their kick-ass-take-names approach to animal rights. I flew out to interview, got the job shortly after, and began making plans to move to Norfolk the day after my college graduation. It was a whirlwind. A dream. Everything felt totally unreal, like my life had been on a certain course and I suddenly had gone rogue and sped in the opposite direction. But I’d never felt more certain that this was meant to be my life. Working for animals was meant to be my life. But the cost was huge…leaving my everything.

My parents helped me move into my new Ghent apartment, and when they left and I was truly alone for the first time in my life, I sat on the floor and stared at the wall for a good few hours. Letting it all sink in. Did I make the right choice? Did I hurt them by leaving? Do they know how much I love them? Can I make it on my own? I guess I’m still finding that all out.