Leaving home to come home

I have almost been home for a week. And yet I still feel like an alien here. My head, my heart, and my thoughts are not here and what may make me physically comfortable seems to do nothing to ease the emotional and mental awkwardness I feel. What an unnerving feeling it is to feel as though you are the only one that feels out of place in what should be the most comfortable place for you: your home, your city, your country.

I expected some transition issues. I dont do well with change. It scares me and overwhelms me but this is unreal. Everything I feel and see and hear just doesnt seem real. It doesnt seem real that I can actually hug my mum and dad before I go to sleep. It doesnt seem real that I can take a long, long hot shower and brush my teeth with running water. It doesnt seem real that I live in a house at least quadruple the size of many I spent so much time in last year. It doesnt seem real that I have said gooddbye. It doesnt feel real that my year is done.

I seem to have resorted to denial in some ways. If I dont think about it, it doesnt hurt as much. If I dont have to talk about it, I can kind of ignore it. And so if you are reading this and you have called me or sent me a message and I havent responded t o it, it is because of this. When I have to talk about Honduras, Talanga, or any of the people that I love so dearly there, the reality sets in and it becomes a little unmanageable. Denial and numbness have to a certain extent taken over and when the pangs of recognition and emotion somehow break through, it does become real.

It is real and it is painful but if it was anything but this I would be more upset.