Back in the Saddle

By Deeply Indigo - May 14, 2025

Three years ago, I moved to Austin, and something in me cracked open in the best way. For the first time, I could really breathe. I explored my identity, my style, my voice—I danced in queer bars, made art out of heartbreak, dyed my hair every color of my mood ring soul. I changed, deeply. I found freedom.

And now I’m back in my hometown.

It’s a strange thing, returning to a place that once felt like a cage after living somewhere that felt like flight. There are moments when it’s sweet, familiar and sometimes even beautiful in a small-town way. There are cool people here. People doing the work, people who see you. I’ve had real conversations, real laughs. But there’s also the reality that some spaces here aren’t built for you to thrive.

I’m working at Texas Roadhouse now. And weirdly? I kind of love it. It’s camp, it’s chaos, it’s cute gay server energy turned up to ten. I get to play a little role every shift—smiling, charming, performing. The money’s actually pretty decent. But let’s not sugarcoat it: it’s still service work. It’s exhausting, repetitive, and sometimes you walk away feeling more invisible than seen.

One of the harder lessons I’ve had to relearn is that not everyone who’s friendly is a friend. I’ve had moments of disappointment-thinking I was building community, only to realize there’s not always meaning behind the smiles. But I’m not mad. People are complicated. This town has its own rhythm and emotional language that doesn’t really match mine anymore. And that’s okay.

What I do wish is that there was more emotional maturity. More willingness to go deeper, to get weird, to talk about things that matter. But I’ve also stopped expecting that from everyone. I’ve learned to hold space for myself instead.

And part of that self-space has meant finally coming to terms with my mental illness. No more running from it or trying to dress it up in a costume. I’ve got big feelings, spirals, and days where I feel like my brain is in a battle against itself. But I’ve also got insight, creativity, intuition, and compassion because of that same mind. I used to fear people thinking I was “too much” or “bonkers.”

Now? Let them think it. Let them whisper. I’m the town weirdo, and I’ve never been prouder.

Teenage me would love this. The dyed hair. The tattoos. The eyeliner in the grocery store. The fact that I show up to work a little glittery, a little kooky and always entirely myself. I used to want to escape this town forever- but now that I’m back, I realize I dont have to force myself to blend in. I'm a little different- and that's okay. The people who see the weirdness and appreciate it, those are the people I want to surround myself with.

Coming back hasn’t been easy. Some days I feel like a visitor in my own life. But I also know that who I became in Austin didn’t disappear when I crossed back over the city limits. That version of me- the freer, fuller me- still exists. Still dances. Still dreams.

And maybe that’s what this chapter is about: not losing what I found, but learning how to carry it with me, even here. Even when it's uncomfortable. Even when it’s lonely.

Because I didn’t come home to fit in. I came home to take contribute to my community, in my own way- the Indigo way.

XOXO Deeply Indigo