The Homesick Blues

      I've been wrestling with homesickness a lot these past two weeks. It takes precedence over every other feeling I have, pushing aside all other emotions that I normally experience and making me miss home constantly. It's one of those queer yet positive sensations, kind of like deja vu. The brain recognizes something as familiar, then it recalls the past and makes a connection with it. It creates a deep longing for the good things that we know we are missing. It's a gut-wrenching, eye-watering rush of emotion. It comes at me like a cannonball, deafeningly loud and up close. I'm arrested by its power and I give in. I let the memories wash over me like a cool spring on a hot July day, bringing refreshment and calm.

        I sink further under the flood of memories cropping up like images on a TV screen and eventually I'm under its surface staring up at a Tennessee sun through bending oak trees. I'm back in my parents' pool, floating on my back in the heat of the first day of summer in the South. It's May and the wind is gentle like a silk sheet brushing against my bare skin. The water laps up against my face as I listen to the muted sounds of cicadas buzzing and lawn mowers whirring. My body is light, almost weightless. It's free of burden and care. Any sharpness of sound softens under the calm water. I'm free in this moment. Free to listen and look without any dissonance or distraction. I'm free to stretch my body under the bright, clear sky and not worry about who is watching. In this memory, I'm fully alive, wholly aware, submerged in goodness.

      I've begun to let myself return to these memories. It must be important to let these feelings breathe and take their necessary place in my life. A life which is currently defined by unfamiliarity. Living in another culture can wrack your sense of self in a way that is either destructive or constructive. It's possible that it takes both to make it through to the end, but I'm betting that our minds fight really hard to maintain the self one has built over time. Living in a new culture challenges every bit of identity.

      In some ways I want to change. I've seen transformation in my life as a positive thing for the most part. In other ways, I value what was; the past as equally important as the present and future. Perhaps it's more important to me. I'm not sure. There are people who never change - they stay the same day in and day out. I am increasingly envious of those who seem comfortable with living in the same place in the same way for years on end. They are consistent.They set roots deep into the ground and spend their lives watering and tending to those. I may have never been meant for that life, but I do value it. I respect a piece of it within myself too.

      So, where do I go from here? How do I loose myself from the sadness that comes with being homesick? I am certainly in need of a little boost and it's not sustainable for me to keep soothing the pain with bars of chocolate. I've got to get back out in this new culture and learn instead of moping around the house. I start a new job come September so that should put some new meaning in place of the hopelessness I feel. I'm also starting two online Masters classes, a new P90x workout program and I will be learning Kurdish. Wow, that seems like a lot! I'm learning to do more than just cope and for me that often means piling on the activities.

      Letting myself mourn a little over what I know and miss is healthy. Allowing myself to neglect life in the present isn't healthy. I'm ready to be intentional again. Here goes another week in Kurdistan!