Going Home

Going home is a weird thing once you’ve been away for a long time in a bunch of different foreign countries.  There are so many emotions on both sides.  It’s difficult to process.

On the one hand, you are so excited to get home to see all your friends and family.  There is the comfort of familiarity, the ease of knowing where you are, no language barriers, the promise of routine and structure, and many modern conveniences that you forget about while you are gone, and take for granted while you are there.

On the other hand, you are leaving the spontaneity of a life not yet fully lived, the surprises of what each new day will bring, the constant learning and exploring, the new tastes, sounds, and smells that envelop you each and every day, and the constant adventure. 

I get the same feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I go home now.  I have it right now as I write this.  It’s so hard to explain…it’s like a little bit of anxiety, anticipation, and apprehension all at the same time.  It makes me feel….nervous.  I guess that is the only way that I can describe it.  And it makes me want to cry a little bit.  And smile.  It is just everything.  

Here is why it’s hard for me to go home:

It’s the weirdest feeling in the world to get off the plane from a 24+ hour flight and land somewhere that you know so well, when you are so used to getting off planes and not knowing what to expect.  It’s like time stood still.  Everything looks the same, everything feels the same, everything is the same.  But I’m not.  I have lived a lifetime, and I’ve changed.  I’ve seen, lived and experienced SO much and learned about how different cultures and societies live.  I’ve seen a different way.  A different option.  And I think because of that it’s hard to just plop myself right back into “how it used to be.”  But at the same time, it is so easy to do just that.  Because what else are you going to do?  When you know a place so well, and your whole life happened here, how can you not just fall back into your old routines and old ways of life?  And I think that is the scariest part.  It is SO easy to just revert back into that old person that you have worked so hard to run away from.  Now, I’m not saying that I was a bad person or that I had a terrible life.  It was great.  But it was different.  My outlook is different on everything now.  And as hard as I try to bring that with me when I land on American soil, it’s like someone switches off a light switch and you’re just right back where you started.  

I don’t know if any of that makes any sense, but I think what I’m trying to say is that coming home makes it hard to stay on the new path that you have been building for yourself.  It’s like someone hits the pause button or you hit a roadblock and you are stuck.  The path is so clear when you are out on your own because you are building it everyday and you have to keep building it because you have to survive.  But the comforts of home are so strong and so solidified in your memory that you become a bit lazy or lethargic and you just let society pull you back in.  Probably because it is so deeply engrained in your being that you can’t just disregard it.  

Last time I came home, I didn’t know what to expect.  I was shocked at how easy it was to get right back into my old life.  Like I had never left.  Like I had never visited a Buddhist temple.  Like I had never eaten noodles on a kid-size plastic chair on a littered side of the street speaking broken English with local Vietnamese people.  Like I had never stood on the banks of the Gange River in India and sang Hindu hymns with yogi shamans.  Like I had never slept in a freezing cold tea house up in the Himalayan Mountains and shared beers with Tibetan Sherpas.  Like I had never snorkeled in the crystal clear waters of the Philippines, or broken bread with and enjoyed the hospitality of the Balinese people.  It’s almost as if those things never happened.  But they did happen.  And sometimes I have to struggle to remember that when I am home.  Because the pull to be a part of American society is SO strong.  We grow up hearing and believing that America is the strongest and most powerful country in the world.  When it comes to societal beliefs and the drive to live the “American Dream” I would say that is true.  It is powerful.  It’s easy to forget that there is a whole other world out there.  It’s easy to believe that America is the be all, end all.  Especially when you are right there living in the middle of it.

So I try to remind myself about how much is out there, and that the American way is not the ONLY way.  And again, I’m not saying that the American way is a bad way.  Not at all.  Let me be clear – I love America.  And I love being American.  And I feel grateful to have grown up in such an amazing, free country.  But I now know that there are other ways to live your life too.  Other values to uphold and believe in.  Other spiritual paths.  And other ways to be happy.  

But overall, I think the scariest part of coming home is losing myself.  My new self.  The one that I have grown to love so much.  I feel so confident when I am traveling, and when I am home, my insecurities start to seep back in.  Again, maybe it’s because everyone is reaching for that American dream, and everyone seems to be doing it on the same path, and I am taking a completely different route.  You can feel a little ostracized and people can get into your head.  And you feel all the changes you’ve made starting to slowly slip away.  I’m not as mentally strong at home as I am when I am traveling.  And that scares me.  

So when I say that I am afraid to come home, it’s not because I don’t love my friends and family, or America, or the great values that our country is based on (but seems to be struggling with these days – which is a whole other blog post), it’s because I don’t want to put a pause on my personal progress.  So this time, I am going to try not to lose myself.  As hard as American society tries to pull me into her lair, I am going to do my damndest to fight back and remember that there is so much beauty in learning about more than what is just in front of you.  And I’m not going to feel bad about it either.  I have found a different way.  And it suits me.  I’m well aware that it’s not for everyone, but we should all be able to pursue our hopes and dreams in any fashion we wish.  And not be put down for it.  Or questioned because of it.  My new way may not be your way, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less valuable.  

So in sum, I am STOKED to go home.  I can’t wait to see everyone!  And I can’t wait for all the hugs and kisses and physical companionship.  I can’t wait to see America’s beautiful landscape, and to feel all the comforts of home.  I will bid adieu to Vietnam and Southeast Asia with a heavy heart, but also with so much love and gratitude in my entire being, and I will not forget all the lessons that I have learned here. Most importantly, I will not forget who I have become and who I am still becoming.

Someone once said, “Travel far enough that you meet yourself.”  I’m no longer looking at going home as a roadblock.  It may be a little bit of a detour, but it is still part of the journey.  And learning to navigate the past is just as important as finding your new future.

The road is long and winding, and I am only just beginning…