I’ve found myself getting homesick more lately.
Maybe it’s because race season is starting, or maybe it’s because I’ve hit my six month mark here (holy shit), maybe it’s the politics back home, or perhaps this burst of sunshine has made me want to bask by the Willamette or swing into the Avery.
Whatever it is, I’m finding myself in a dark headspace. Maybe it’s because I was not acknowledging homesickness as the source of my unrest, but it has been a rough few weeks. I second guess everything- am I intelligent? Should I do engineering? Why aren’t I driven like I used to be towards success? Do people here really like me? Should I pursue climbing and cycling, or do I just drag everybody down? Is it worth getting out of bed today at all? No? Just sleep then…
It hits like torrential waves. I’ll be laughing, then suddenly doubt slams in… I can feel my eyes lose their sparkle and my grin lose its edge. I hate it and myself simultaneously, where seconds before I felt love and joy.
I haven’t been acknowledging it like I should, haven’t been taking care of my headspace well enough. Missing home, missing my friends and family hurt so much that I shoved it far back into by subconscious, much to the damage of myself.
I miss the windy quiet, the chirping songbirds and barking dogs. I miss having nature at my doorstep, the busy solitude found on Bald Hill, the rolling hills of Decker, Dimple, and Saddle that offered me shelter for contemplation. I miss night runs to the bridge out of Corvallis over the Willamette, where I would cry and laugh to the songs of the moonlight and rain, I’ve told more secrets to those old wooden planks than any person. I miss the covered bridge, both for its individual beauty but also the memories of time spent with friends there.
I’ve been here six months now, almost exactly. Six months of laughter, friendship, and adventures of their own, all working to add more plasters on a slowly rotting heart.
But, it’s all okay. It’s okay to feel this pain, longing. Pain is acknowledgement, a nod to home. To ignore it is to only further add to my distress. So, I’m gonna spend a few days crying, Skyping, and generally boring everybody with tales of how amazing home is.
Because when I talk about it, home, Corvallis, OSU Cycling, I’m not trying to boast or brag of my upbringing. I’m trying to reaffirm to MYSELF that everything there, all the love and joy I felt in the cottonwood breeze, it is all real, tangible, and waiting for me to come home.
…
…
…
It’s actually funny, someone like me who always dreamed of travelling, adventuring, seeing the world… for me to have such deep-set roots in Corvallis.
I know this isn’t unique, I know that many people have experienced homesickness or displacement that I can only pretend to understand, but knowing the scope of worldly pain doesn’t diminish what I feel.
…
Fuck it, I’ll make a happier post later.
Meg Out.