A Terminal Malady
I made it to break, I'm alive, maybe near death, but still breathing. When I drove down the driveway last night the snow flakes were falling and when I woke up this morning the trees were glistening white. I had been eating and drinking this past week so that I might live to see this moment, my house with open arms to embrace me. So I could escape the fast life of a working college student.
I got an email last week from a former WWU student, currently working on a PhD at Auburn University, who recently returned from a year in India where he lived my life as a teacher at RAA, only missing me by a year. When I went back to visit last spring I met him and we became fast friends, sharing stories and secrets about the lands treasures. When I read his email I felt comforted, pleased to know that there was someone who understood. He asked me about the symptoms of my reverse culture shock, if I had experienced it, and what I had done about it. So in a reply, my email was similar to the length of a novel. But in summary: I was lonely. Large and loud groups forced me to hibernate. Appointments tied my stomachs into knots. Small talk was distasteful and those forced conversations were disgusting. The overconsumption was nauseating, and the Safeway was as grand as the Taj Mahal. It's been a year and a half and these symptoms live on. A year and a half! Did you hear that? I'm still lonely. I hibernate regularly. My stomach is constantly tied in knots. Dear friend, in all honesty, I question if we may ever recuperate. No Thanksgiving break, Christmas break or Summer vacation will ever be enough to terminate this illness. But wasn't it worth it?
I got an email last week from a former WWU student, currently working on a PhD at Auburn University, who recently returned from a year in India where he lived my life as a teacher at RAA, only missing me by a year. When I went back to visit last spring I met him and we became fast friends, sharing stories and secrets about the lands treasures. When I read his email I felt comforted, pleased to know that there was someone who understood. He asked me about the symptoms of my reverse culture shock, if I had experienced it, and what I had done about it. So in a reply, my email was similar to the length of a novel. But in summary: I was lonely. Large and loud groups forced me to hibernate. Appointments tied my stomachs into knots. Small talk was distasteful and those forced conversations were disgusting. The overconsumption was nauseating, and the Safeway was as grand as the Taj Mahal. It's been a year and a half and these symptoms live on. A year and a half! Did you hear that? I'm still lonely. I hibernate regularly. My stomach is constantly tied in knots. Dear friend, in all honesty, I question if we may ever recuperate. No Thanksgiving break, Christmas break or Summer vacation will ever be enough to terminate this illness. But wasn't it worth it?
so much truth, honesty, and reality in this. i understand. and with that, i can empathize with you.
ReplyDeleteI would love to talk to you more about all this. I guess we did a bit at camp when you got back, but I'd still like to more!
ReplyDeletewow
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