The Long Road Home
I first began to write this blog post August 29th, 2016. A lot has happened since then. I ended up staying in Seattle for three months more than originally planned. I WAS going to be staying in Seattle for six months more than originally planned, but things changed.
I scrapped everything that was written in August to tell you where I am at now. This will be brutally honest. This will hurt writing, and it may hurt you to read it. I don't know if this will tie up with a pretty bow at the end. I am guessing not, but I have to see what comes out in my writing first to be sure.
This has been a very long road home.
The amount of times I have cried over these last few months is as numerous as the days in three months added together and then doubled. My cheeks have been wetted with tears of pain, shame, guilt, fear, loneliness, joy and sadness.
Why are you so melancholy, my dear girl?
What a hard question to answer - there is no simple answer I could give. I have had a very hard time in Seattle. I am not in any way saying that my time in Seattle was bad. Far from that! It has been a joy to be here, to learn and to grow, but, my friends, I feel as though I will be returning to Texas in a state of someone who has seen war.
There have been bitter disappointments, people who have hurt me, bad situations and carelessness and passivity against me have destroyed some wonderful things and opportunities.
But guess what? This is not a Seattle specific problem.
Beloved friends, no matter where you are in the world, you can get hurt. You can and will experience hardships, disappointments, pain no matter what your zip code is. I am fully aware that by leaving, I will not be going home to some paradise. I am very realistic about what is awaiting me.
I am at a point where I, at 23 years of age, have crippling separation anxiety. I have sobbed when left alone many times in the last month.
How did you get this way, girl?
Oh, many, many, many, many, hours and days of being left alone. Left to my own devises, left to defend and fend for myself. Left to create or to destroy as I please. Alone on walks, adventures, on commutes, on museum trips, art gallery viewings, grocery trips, alone in my room, alone in transit. By nature, I am an extrovert. Having lived life as an introvert in an introverted city for nine months will create a monster in you that desires genuine, human interactions more than anything, creating in you a separation anxiety that rears it's beastly head when you are left alone. I have much shame in this reaction I have now.
I feel as though I don't have a real place in this city or in this world. I've had to leave my home for the past nine months and stay in a completely different area for a few weeks. My last home was filled with people, yet I felt as though I was growing farther from them daily. Few conversations were had as the days of residing there grew shorter.
I feel unwanted. I feel inconvenient.
The problem is, that "home" as I know it in Texas no longer exists. Life as I knew it did not "pause" when I left. It kept going. People did what they do; they carried on. My friends have changed, some have babies, some got married. People have left, new ones have arrived, buildings went up, and buildings came down. Hair has been dyed, cut and changed. My siblings have grown.
Nothing will be as I expect.
I feel as though I will be an intruder in a space that will look familiar, but will not be the same.
This is where I am at now. I'm in transition, more of a hobo than a homebody. I leave for Brazil in 8 days. I am excited in general, but even MORE excited to be around people, not just people from my church, but a whole new group of people who don't speak the same language as me, but love and love well regardless. I want to be the same. I want to love people regardless of who I am and how I feel that day. I want to love unconditionally as I have been loved unconditionally.
I am excited, expetant