Alright, this blog post is going to be about homesickness, and probably other things. I'm in a writing mood.
I would like to start by assuring you readers that once you are almost 7 months into you exchange, your homesickness will have all but dissolved. You will fear going home, you've built your life here now.
As I type this, it is a Wednesday, and I am on the bus on the way to San Jose. I have a meeting with AFS, probably a follow up on my switch. For some reason when I sit on a bus, or in a car, looking out the windows and listening into other people's rapid Spanish conversations, I have my clearest thoughts, particularly so when I'm alone.
We're passing a long field, it's green and sparkling. It's cold out today. The woman behind me talks about her son's run in with the police "claro que estoy enojada, pero somos una familia al fin. Él es mi mundo." She says "Of course I'm mad, but we're a family in the end. He is my world."
What was I saying about having clear thoughts? This blog may turn into me rambling, I'm sorry. I just finished a good book and my mind is exploding.
When you're on an exchange there are always going to be people at home who are determined to keep you living in limbo. You have your dear friends who you talk to about you life and theirs, but there will be so many people who only want to discuss what you'll do when you get home. "When you come home..." I don't want to face that reality until I'm with Becca in San Jose on July 6th. Even then I probably won't face it. People who have never done this sort of thing just can't fathom it, nor do I expect them to.
The first few weeks of your exchange will be pain. And it's so funny because you will be 2 weeks in and tell yourself "well, that's it, I'm adjusted." And then you wake up the next morning and think you're in your own bed, for one blissful split second you think you're home. It's a hard couple of weeks, I still wonder how I managed to do it. I remember that I would constantly tell myself "I'm happy. I'm happy. I'm happy." I would never sob, but I felt low. Sometimes I would look and my wall and realize I was crying, just a little bit, for no reason. I can't count the amount of times I considered going home.
Then a month or two pass, and you truly start to get the hang of things. If you're like me, and you didn't know any of the language when you started, things start to change. You can understand so much more. You say to yourself "two months ago I had no idea how to say that." You start setting personal goals to distract yourself from the fact that your home is quickly slipping away for you. But your mind still wanders home, you still hear the wind chimes and your moms kitchen aid. You still smell fresh bread, you still taste home made jam. You're in the honeymoon phase. When things go wrong, you know you're strong enough to fix them. Yet you still miss home. You still scribble the New Mexican flag in your notes. You still get excited when you hear your anthem.
I already talked about how terrible the 3 month mark was for my friends and I. I don't want to talk about it.
3 bicyclists just went by. The woman behind me is quiet now, but a man in front of me in talking on the phone, loudly. He seems very frustrated. I can't tell what he's saying.
The funny thing about this whole experience is that fact that isn't ever the same. In the beginning you miss home, so much. You can't imagine that feeling ever going away. Eventually, thought, you start to dread your own home. A place where you're normal again. Where you have a reputation, where people will come up to you and say "How was Puerto Rico?" Or "I went to Costa Rica once, beautiful country." How could they know, you left your entire life there. How could they know you had nightmares about going home months before you had to. The worst of all will be "How was your trip?" ...trip... And furthermore, how will I respond? "It was great!" I will have lived an entire life here.
Home, home, what is home? Every single person I meet calls home someplace different from the next. We are all surrounding each other, on slightly different orbits. Where and when, and with whom we will collide, we will never know. There are billions of us, each lusting after our own backyard, our own neighborhood, our own dress up boxes, packed away in the attic for the day in the not so distant future when the grandkids go riffling though the old things. How could you ever know how much this little house on the corner with the falling down fence means to someone?
As for how to remedy homesickness, I know not. I just know that the longer you stay away from home, the easier it gets. When ever I noticed myself getting homesick, I would just tell myself "Emma what you're doing is so cool. And your friends are so jealous of you." If that didn't help, I would try to keep my mind occupied. I'd read a book (which is dumb because books have far too strong of an influence on my mood) or I would cook. I would tell my family or friends about home. Most of the time they seemed uninterested, but it felt good nonetheless. I would try to set little goals, give myself pep talks in the shower before school. You must look forward to something, even if it's finally coming home and going to bed at night. Finally, let yourself cry. Let yourself not be ok. But don't get used to asking people from home for help, you've left that behind now.
All in all, moving away, alone, to a new country where you've never been, to live with a family you've never met, who speaks a language you don't know, and go to a school filled with people you've yet to get to meet, is something no one expected it to be easy. But I can safely say this is the best decision I've ever made.
I'm almost to San Jose now. I don't have to look out to window to know, the bus is continually stopping and slowing, only to speed up again, but soon we'll be on the highway again. This has always been my favorite part, when I come in at night I can see the city and it looks like it's on fire, and I see all the homes with Tin roofs. Who is tucked inside those little homes, and how many other people have looked at them and wondered the same?
I think the most important thing that you can take from this blog post is that nothing is permanent when you're studying abroad. If you're sad one day, chances are you'll be blissful the next. You'll learn to help yourself, and you'll learn to be ok with everything being out of your control. I feel like this post didn't really say anything I wanted it to say. The bus is flying down the highway, and I'm thinking 100 miles a minute. We all have days like these.
Until next time,
The wanderlustful Emma