On Being Homesick

I woke up this morning with a sour feeling. Then I realized how much I wanted to go home. I seriously would have gotten in my car and drove the four hours back. I've been trying to prepare for these emotions for months. I always thought I would be terrified when I got here. So for months I tried to prepare myself for that one emotion, fear. I wasn't scared when I got here though. It was like I completely forgot that I was in college for two years. I was excited more than anything. I was in control of everything I did. I was excited to be in a new room with a microwave and mini fridge. I was happy to be in the Hogwarts dorm room I never got. I was thrilled that I got to bring all my favorite books and even then some. I was happy to have a bedside table to put my books on. My room at home is filled with books so I'm not able to have things like a desk or a bedside table with a lamp. I was excited to meet new people and to do the things I wanted to do. I was ready to go to my classes. I was lucky to meet incredible people during orientation. We eat dinner together everyday, we've gone shopping, seen movies and gone to the beach. I've gotten to meet two of my flatmates who are incredibly nice. We've made cookies, watched movies in our kitchen/living room and talked about our lives. One of my biggest fears about moving was loneliness. Loneliness is one of my biggest fears in general. I've never been good at 'keeping' friends. I thought the friends I made at orientation would separate. We haven't though and that's been wonderful. 

Fear and loneliness have not been my biggest obstacles here. My biggest obstacles has been learning to grow and homesickness. I knew that I would get homesick to a certain extent. I've never really been homesick before. Maybe when I went on mission trips but I always knew that I would come home in a week. I won't be home for another two months. I won't be home for my birthday, I'm going to miss family dinners, Halloween and I'm not able to see Colt everyday. That's incredibly difficult for me to wrap my mind around. For the first week I was fine. I was happy and content. I expected my emotions to go from high to low and vice versa. Everything was so fresh and new. My room and beside table is not new anymore. Walking around campus and seeing everything is not fresh. It's all become a part of my daily life. After the newness wore off I started noticing things. I got really bad cellulitis on both legs, my grandmother was hospitalized, I got catcalled, and I messed up the times for my classes. I thought my class was at two when It was at one.

For my social work classes we only have one class a week. Most of the classes are basically online. I realized right before I left that I was thirty minutes late for my class. As I was practically running to class I saw a sign on the door for another class. It basically said that if you were late you weren't allowed in. I don't understand professors like that. Luckily, when I got to class there was a seat in the back. I was furious with myself because this wasn't the impression that I wanted to make. I looked around the classroom and realized how much I didn't know these people. I listened to the professor and it wasn't the same for me. I thought about my old school, my classmates and professor. Everyone in my social work classes were close. I never felt like I was competing with them. I had a professor who genuinely believed in me. As I was sitting there I realized that I didn't have that anymore. I didn't have that security. I was sitting in the back so people didn't notice that I was tearing up. I tried to listen to the professor but I struggled. After class I went back to my dorm and collapsed on my bed. I pretended that I was sleeping when my roommate came in. 

Leah ended up calling me this morning and I was grateful. At that point I was laying in bed, tired. The first thing she asked me was, "Are you homesick?" Our friends know us better than we know ourselves. It was then that I started crying. I tried to explain everything that happened. I told her about my grandmother, being catcalled, ordering a spicy Chick-fil-A sandwich on accident. She told me that it was going to be okay. When she got to her own college she promised to call me later tonight. She told me that I needed to get out even though it's hard. She also suggested that I get chocolate and I did that. 

After that phone call I realized that no matter what I did this place would never be 'home'. As much as I tried to pack up my life and bring it here it's not going to be the same. I can't move all my memories here. I miss the mountains, the library, the coffeehouse, my home, my friends, my parents, my room, my dogs...My hometown had some not so great memories. In high school I felt repressed and confused that doesn't change the memories. It doesn't change the fact that it was home. There's a feeling, a sense of ownership that can't be packed up. My hometown and the people in it will always hold a special place in my heart. That doesn't mean that I can't be happy here though. As much as I want to go home I need to be here. As time goes on I will make more roots and connections. As time goes on it will feel more like home. 

DFTBA

-AB