I will be flying out of Santiago in a week. It has been 166 days since I began this chapter of the grand adventure that is my life. I have known for awhile that this journey was nearing its final days. In fact, since the moment I left on that sunny Wednesday afternoon from Chicago, I have been thinking about my return. Thinking. Not awaiting. Note the word choice. So much for 'Here and Now' I suppose. Writing a blog kept me constantly connected to home, and made it extremely hard to forget my life in the States. But I cannot place the blame entirely on blogwriting. Thinking about my return is part of my natural tendency to critique my surroundings and plan for the future. How does our current lifestyle impact our world and what can I do to make a positive impact? These questions are never far from my mind. Regardless of the causes, these feelings and thoughts about my return are becoming even more frequent, more powerful, and more divided.
Don't be offended when I say that there is a part of me that does not wish to return. I am nervous. I am anxious. Sometimes I can barely breath. I'll miss Argentina and Chile. That is for certain. I'll miss speaking spanish. I'll miss the color and vibrancy of the streets, the houses, and the markets. I'll miss the subtle cultural differences that made each day so fresh and exciting. I'll miss the long busrides through the beautiful countryside peppered with small, family farms. I'll miss living in a country that puts such a grand value and emphasis on agriculture. I'll miss old men in freshly pressed pants and warm sweaters. I'll miss public transportation that picks you up and drops you off in practically any location. I'll miss the family friendly central plazas. I'll miss the signs proudly displaying the public works projects that the government is providing. I'll miss the Chilean flag. I'll miss internet cafes. I'll miss feeling homesick.
Homesick. That alone makes me nervous and anxious. I know that nostalgia can be dangerous and that memories can be deceptive. I know that things change, and that the home I left and the person I was when I left are no longer the same. That's reverse culture shock. Culture shock can be rather daunting. But when you arrive in a new country and a new place, you know it is new so you expect it to be different. Reverse culture shock, the shock you receive upon return to your own country after a long trip, is often more powerful and more subtle. I've experienced it before, and its impacts can be practically debilitating. No two people express the same symptoms. When I came back from Brazil, South Africa, and Vietnam, I had no idea that I was having problems coping. I thought I was strong. I thought I was prepared. I thought I could handle it all. But I crashed and burned. Slowly but surely, I came to realize just how much my re-entrance into the United States was tearing me apart. But I moved on. Eventually I came to terms with what was happening and with how I was feeling, and I am stronger for the experience. For that reason, I doubt that I will undergo such a shock upon my return. I am older and wiser--I know how to use my critical eye to my advantage and I know the changes that I want to make in the States. But also I am more humble and more attuned to the world--I am looking for the support of others and I understand that my return home marks a mere continuation of my journey rather than an end.
More than anything, I am nervous on a more personal, perhaps more selfish, level. If you can believe it, I have grown even more independent, more self-sufficient, more opinionated, and more determined over the past six months. The realist in me knows that these qualities are bound to clash with the lifestyle and opinions of friends, families, and collegues at home. For so long I have had the privelege of freedom. I could spend each and every day walking with the sole purpose of seeing what I'll find. If I chose to do so, I could spend every waking second inside my own head, assessing the state of my surroundings and dreaming of what I could do to make positive changes. I could meet people and make aquaintances, but in every relationship I had the upper hand because I had the power to leave whenever I pleased. I don't like conflict and I don't want to offend people. So naturally, I am genuinely afraid of what life will be like when I must return to a time schedule, when I have to consider the demands and desires of those around me, when I have to explain my thoughts and my emotions to loved ones, when I have to accept the lifestyles of friends and family members even though I am opposed to so many of the actions and thoughts that they have.
I say these things to you now so that you can understand where I am coming from. I am asking a lot. I am asking for you to give me space but also to hold me close. I am asking for you to love me but also to understand why I may be slow to return such emotions. I am asking you to ask me questions but also to accept a wide range of responses. I am asking for you to be empathetic. More than anything, I am asking you to realize that, although I may be afraid and nervous, my anxiety cannot erase my joy and excitement. Every single day, I experience a moment of sheer bliss at the thought of my return. It can come at any moment. I could be staring out the window of a moving bus, pushing my way through a crowded street, or making my way over a sandy hill. But wherever I am, when that emotion hits, I am overwhelment. My smile stretches to the widest possible degree, and I am inclined to skip, to twirl, and to squeal. It's a beautiful feeling, and it is well justified. I have so much to look forward to. The warmest, most loving embrace from my diamond. Being held in the arms of my dad and giving Jeannine the biggest bear hug. Blasting music with my Stttelllaaa. MAN reunions. Late night walks around Boston. Sassy conversations. Deep discussions. Making that first turn into Paradise Valley and knowing that I've come home. Reuniting with my Mountain Sky family.
Thoughts of these moments give me strength. They make me happy in a way that few things can. They alone are strong enough to calm my anxiety and to fill me with excitement. But luckily for me, these thoughts are supported by something else. This something feeds off of my fears and anxieties and it embraces my loves and my joys. It gets my adrenalyn pumping and my passion surging. It is the thought--or rather the knowledge--that I am going to do something great in the United States. I come back a stronger person, a better person. I come back an inspired person, a driven person. I come back with the desire to experience, to build, and to strengthen communities in mi patria. Mi patria. My homeland. I am from the United States. I may be disappointed in what we have become, but I am not ashamed of where I come from. I will not abandon one of the few things I have that is truly mine. Maybe I am a romantic after all. Call it what you will. But I have hope, I have ideas, and I am ready. Change is already happening, and I look forward to being part of a movement that will be responsable for saving us all from ourselves. All beautiful things are worth fighting for. And I can think of nothing can be more beautiful than the people I love and the place I call home.
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