i promised myself
that things would be different, this time, that if I was in trouble, I'd say so, instead of keeping quiet and fighting through it like my instincts tell me to.
So, though I don't want to let you know, I'm not enjoying this at the moment. Things are going badly, but only on the inside.
So I need your help.
If you know me, you could help out; you could ring me and leave a message on my voicemail, you could send some mail for me to pick up at the Anh Dao in Vietnam in a fortnight, or you could email me.
Every time I get some contact from home, it makes things easier for awhile longer.
You could let me know that even if I feel completely adrift, that someone somewhere knows I'm alive.
Would you do that?
So, though I don't want to let you know, I'm not enjoying this at the moment. Things are going badly, but only on the inside.
So I need your help.
If you know me, you could help out; you could ring me and leave a message on my voicemail, you could send some mail for me to pick up at the Anh Dao in Vietnam in a fortnight, or you could email me.
Every time I get some contact from home, it makes things easier for awhile longer.
You could let me know that even if I feel completely adrift, that someone somewhere knows I'm alive.
Would you do that?
posted by Lectrice at viernes, noviembre 04, 2005
7 Advice:
It's a tension isn't it, between the drive to get away, to do all you can, to be immersed in the new places you've come to, and the hard, knotty, pull-in-the-gut exhaustion that comes with it. That feeling that's not homesickness, in the sense that, hell, you don't want to go home, but maybe a pining for some respite from that drive to keep moving, keep adventuring.
How then to rearrange your perspective? What would help? Maybe the thought that everyone's elsewhere is another person's somewhere? The worst wave of motion sickness I had was sitting on the shore of the North Sea at Caister-on-Sea, that little village just up the road from Great Yarmouth. Couldn't be more middle Britain, right?--but I may as well have been in the Sahara.
So rest when you rest, and move when you move, and listen for that inner equilibrium which will--trust me--reemerge.
Someone in Canberra told me just two days ago that sometimes... all you need when you're on the road... is for someone to remind you why you're doing this in the first place, to make everything all right again.
I went, relied too much on others (in my fear) and came home regretting that I didn't spend more of my time alone.
But, in the end? "My energy is stronger than theirs. Right now." Always, will this be. Or in the words of travellers I met - "So it is." (Ireland) & "...as you do." (South African).
So, get drunk and laugh a little, as you do, and forget about home for a little while longer because, returning home today to ask "so, what happened" the answer I got was "nothing", so it is."
*mwah*
*huggles*
*foodge*
I can't tell you about your home.. or even my own, come to think of it - I don't live in NZ anymore.. but I can tell you about spring in Sydney. Email on the way.
V,
Just want to check. You sent me an email, yesterday?
Although, rereading that email, and laughing at the self-deprecating humor - I highly suspect that it was a legit Sarsparilla email.
And how are you now?
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