Homesickness

I love the weather here in the summertime. Though it's almost enough to make me forget how bitterly cold it gets in February, I'm still aware of that just keenly enough to make me appreciate the warmth that much more. School feels a lot more relaxed, and hanging out at the beach sure beats staying inside all the time.

Despite all this, I noticed back in July that I was spending a lot of time in a bad mood. I was cranky, I didn't like hanging out with the other ALTs as much, I enjoyed chorus rehearsal less and less, and I was just generally pretty crabby. When I realized this, I was confused: I readily admitted to myself that I still loved my job. Lessons were, as always, fun and engaging. Sure, some of the kids were coming along slowly, and some classes were rowdy, but no more so than usual.

It took me a while to realize that I was homesick. Prior to this, the longest I'd ever gone without visiting my parents had been six months. Not having been home since New Year's, July marked the beginning of my seventh month without seeing them. Despite my best efforts to stave it off, I'd come down with a case of homesickness.

Realizing it was only half the battle, of course. I had to force myself to go outside and be more active. I started going to the gym at least three times a week, I stopped at the beach every day on the way back from the gym, and I cleaned my apartment. It took a couple of weeks, but, little by little, I pulled myself out of it.

I still love traveling, and I know that I'm not ready to cut bait and go home. I eventually want to settle down somewhere near family, of course, but not yet. This summer has taught me that I can handle travel with no problem, so long as I go home every six months. I felt kind of ashamed when I first realized that. I felt like a weenie: here I am, so weak that I can't stay away from home for a measly six months, when Aaron went a full two years without going home.

After some more thought, I've decided that's the wrong way to look at it. My needing to visit home twice a year doesn't make me weak or oversensitive; someone else not needing to visit home but every two years doesn't make them strong or cold-hearted. Each of us just has different limits, and I've found mine. I love adventuring almost as much as I love my friends and family. Visiting home twice a year is what I need to keep a healthy balance of those two loves.