Let me preface this post by saying that I absolutely adore my family and friends. I have, hands down, the best, most amazing and supportive parents, brothers, and extended family imaginable.
That being said, I have never been so unhappy to be home in my life. As soon as my plane touched down at LAX on Saturday night, I began to cry. And again at my cousin’s house on Sunday night. And again on Monday night. And when my parents picked me up at the STL airport on Tuesday afternoon, I was just about the grumpiest person ever, yet they were still thrilled to see me. I, on the other hand, went straight to my room to cry again.
It finally hit me as to why I have been so upset. For the past 3 weeks in KTM, I have actually been happy (we can’t count that first week, where the first few days were filled with intense stress and anxiety, and the next 5 days were living a surreal life of traipsing through the jungle and riding elephants). During those subsequent 3 weeks, not once did I think about how depressed I was, or how much I hated my life, or about my student loans, or that most of my friends are married/have kids. Not once did I think about how lonely and empty I feel all the time at home, despite being surrounded by friends and family. I simply had enjoyed life again; enjoyed feeling like a normal person again, enjoyed my new friends and family in KTM, and enjoyed the feeling of being loved by people (and loving them in return) that I’d only just met.
And it wasn’t until I left did I even recognize having these wonderful feelings. Because as soon as I hit the States, all the old feelings started to resurface – the loneliness, the dread, the pressure, the knots in my stomach (yes, all of which I know are self-imposed). And only then did I realize that these familiar “friends” had been absent for 3 weeks, and it had been glorious. I had felt lighter, freer, and more at peace than I can ever remember feeling.
One of the few people who reacted negatively to my trip told me, before I left, that being an adult meant not being able to say yes to certain opportunities in life. This same person told me, upon my return, that I had to get back to real life. Which made me wonder, why can’t this be my real life? Who says there are rules to being an adult, or that my real life has to include a husband, kids, and a typical, American M-F, 8-5 job? Yes, obviously I have bills to pay, so that’s a factor. But shouldn’t I be able to make my own rules, for my own life, that lead to my being happy? Isn’t making the most of this life and being happy more important than following the rules of how life “should” be done?
Nevertheless, I’ve spent the last 2 days trying to get back into the swing of “real life.” I’ve managed not to have a meltdown since Tuesday afternoon. Today I saw my dentist, who is also a friend, and she told me, “You look great! You look so happy!” That’s something I haven’t heard in a long time, because I haven’t been happy in a long time. And while I’m still regretting not extending my stay in KTM, and I’m missing my KTM friends and family terribly, I must still have that happiness of my time there exuding from me as I regale others with my stories. But all the while, in the back of my mind, I’m wondering when I can get back to my monks, my orphans, my friends. Because somehow, someway, I’m determined to make them a part of my “real life.” Home really is where the heart is, and half of my heart is currently still on the other side of the world.
curbtrippin 