Back In The Saddle
So I've been back for a while now. I kept meaning to post something about how horrible the w-curve was, or how much I wanted to be back in France, not working, not sitting at home, eating and watching TV. But I couldn't. It seemed impossible to try to sit down and bring everything together, reflect about my experiences and glean new insights about myself and the world. It was frustrating and painful.
I wanted to make the most of my time at home and volunteer or visit people. I knew I should, but I couldn't. It was more difficult for me to be social at home, in my own neighborhood, in my own country, than it was in France. I didn't really want to do anything. Just sit by myself, quietly, without being bothered. Without having to speak any language. Just let English wash over me without having to think or process information. TV is good for that.
I guess I wanted to keep living in a homeless, confused and judgemental limbo where nothing seemed to be quite good enough. It was too hard to decide what to keep, what to leave in Europe and what to change. I couldn't talk to many people about it because they were far away, in other countries or other states. Torn between where I was and where I was supposed to be and where I wanted to be.
And I was receiving letters from the bank making me believe I owed the Republique of France money.
Things are getting better now that I can hear other people's stories and either relate or be completely astonished. Now I have friends to be around and activities to be involved with. But it's still different and a little less comfortable.
I miss my host parents. I miss my cold house. I miss my little city.
There is no going back to normal.
I wanted to make the most of my time at home and volunteer or visit people. I knew I should, but I couldn't. It was more difficult for me to be social at home, in my own neighborhood, in my own country, than it was in France. I didn't really want to do anything. Just sit by myself, quietly, without being bothered. Without having to speak any language. Just let English wash over me without having to think or process information. TV is good for that.
I guess I wanted to keep living in a homeless, confused and judgemental limbo where nothing seemed to be quite good enough. It was too hard to decide what to keep, what to leave in Europe and what to change. I couldn't talk to many people about it because they were far away, in other countries or other states. Torn between where I was and where I was supposed to be and where I wanted to be.
And I was receiving letters from the bank making me believe I owed the Republique of France money.
Things are getting better now that I can hear other people's stories and either relate or be completely astonished. Now I have friends to be around and activities to be involved with. But it's still different and a little less comfortable.
I miss my host parents. I miss my cold house. I miss my little city.
There is no going back to normal.
posted by Erin at
5:17 PM
2 Comments
