On homesickness
The other day, I felt my first deep pang of homesickness. (It's been a year, it was bound to happen.) Perhaps it was the experience of watching a cricket match (after many years away from the game in what I can only call a self-imposed ban caused by the intense yo-yoing of emotions) I felt the absence of routine, of ordering a kebab roll from Hot n Spicy at the end of the day, of slouching in front of the television. Later that evening, I went out -- I do a lot of *social* activities these days, all to get out of my space and meet people and maybe make friends -- but I left a couple of hours later, feeling exhausted. I wandered around the lit up streets, too early for the tram, too late for the train. Suddenly it felt like too much. My Dutch is not great yet, and people sometimes strain to understand what I am saying. In my head, though, I speak beautifully accented Dutch, but it never matches to the words that come out of my mouth. I am constantly putting myself out there, going to events, pushing myself forward, speaking up, telling the same anecdotes that have become my go-to anecdotes here, validated by the laughs that they elicit from the audience each time. I felt so tired -- tired of trying, all the time, of always pushing myself, and of constantly feeling like I am not good enough, not good enough at anything -- being myself, speaking Dutch, feeling understood.
For a moment, perhaps, the thing I was homesick for was the feeling of walking into a room and not having to to *try* so much, of not taking a deep anticipatory breath before I walk in somewhere new, and never quite feeling like I can exhale. I am not being ungrateful -- in some ways, this loss of identity and of anonymity is exactly what I wanted, even need. But I missed, at least that evening, of not having to constantly feel like I am failing upwards, all the time. I thought about texting a friend, but what could I say? My life feels sad, right now, in this moment? But everyone else’s, right now, is so much worse, and I have to have some perspective.
I came home, and tried to recreate a comfort meal using readymade daal and rice. It was delicious, but I still felt weighed down.
It passed. By the next day, I didn't feel like walking aimlessly down unfamiliar streets. I even made it to another event this week, telling my stories, yet again.