So here I am in what Liz refers to as The Homeland. I don't really know for sure how long I've been here or what day it is. What I do know, and this may also be the jet lag talking, is that I'm not sure how much I belong here any more.
Please don't read that as "I miss my life in the UK." Nothing could be further from the truth. It also shouldn't be mistaken for "I am nothing when I am without Simon, and since he is in the UK I am therefore nothing." That certainly isn't it either.
The real "it" is that I don't know where I belong. I don't want to be in the UK or the US. I don't want to be anywhere, not in an I Want To Off Myself sort of way but in an I Don't Feel At Ease Anywhere Anymore way.
The first time we came back for a visit, it was marvelous. I was back in my comfort zone. I didn't want to leave and go back to the scary and lonesome UK. The second time it was a little weird. I was starting to look for English food in the American grocery store and was frustrated at things that were "just so flipping different." Yet still, it was then and is now where I want to be...the problem, if you will, is the where within the where.
My old job most likely will not be waiting for me when I return. We may not be able to afford our perfect house b/c I have to freelance and pay for my own insurance (as well as coverage for Simon). It won't be easy, but I never thought I would look at it and think, "Do I really want to do this?"
Well, yes, of course I do. I'm just feeling a bit out of place this trip. Out of step with everyone else. Hours are flying past and my vacation will soon be over and I'm not sure that I will even know that it had started. I'll be staring down that departure gate at Hartsfield again with tears in my eyes. But do I want to stay here? I don't know, to be honest. I just don't know.
For now, though, I'm helping out for a friend of mine that became unexpectedly ill right before I got here. I'm navigating the mine field of friendly surprises and unexpected challenges. And I'm missing Simon and Daisy and Mills.
Is this really a holiday? More on that later, when I've slept a bit.
Please don't read that as "I miss my life in the UK." Nothing could be further from the truth. It also shouldn't be mistaken for "I am nothing when I am without Simon, and since he is in the UK I am therefore nothing." That certainly isn't it either.
The real "it" is that I don't know where I belong. I don't want to be in the UK or the US. I don't want to be anywhere, not in an I Want To Off Myself sort of way but in an I Don't Feel At Ease Anywhere Anymore way.
The first time we came back for a visit, it was marvelous. I was back in my comfort zone. I didn't want to leave and go back to the scary and lonesome UK. The second time it was a little weird. I was starting to look for English food in the American grocery store and was frustrated at things that were "just so flipping different." Yet still, it was then and is now where I want to be...the problem, if you will, is the where within the where.
My old job most likely will not be waiting for me when I return. We may not be able to afford our perfect house b/c I have to freelance and pay for my own insurance (as well as coverage for Simon). It won't be easy, but I never thought I would look at it and think, "Do I really want to do this?"
Well, yes, of course I do. I'm just feeling a bit out of place this trip. Out of step with everyone else. Hours are flying past and my vacation will soon be over and I'm not sure that I will even know that it had started. I'll be staring down that departure gate at Hartsfield again with tears in my eyes. But do I want to stay here? I don't know, to be honest. I just don't know.
For now, though, I'm helping out for a friend of mine that became unexpectedly ill right before I got here. I'm navigating the mine field of friendly surprises and unexpected challenges. And I'm missing Simon and Daisy and Mills.
Is this really a holiday? More on that later, when I've slept a bit.
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