I'm sure the comparison has been made before, but there is something about culture adjustment (going from one country/culture to another) that is uncomfortably like being mentally, well, off. I won't say mental illness, which is a separate issue and way too heavy to compare to any plight of mine, present or past. But mentally off in the sense that most of my points of reference for what is normal/expected are suddenly shifted- ever so slightly- but just enough to throw me for an emotional loop.
There are the mornings I wake up and go downstairs for breakfast, and stand, somewhat overwhelmed, at the well-stocked kitchen shelves in front of me with no fewer than 6 kinds of tea (I'm indecisive even when faced between black and green tea). Then there are the mornings when I don't even leave my room before I'm astounded at the size of my room and the softness of the carpet and the smell of my books and the clothes in my closet (the ones I'd forgotten I'd had these past ten months). And there are even mornings when I don't even make it out of bed before I remember that I'm not on the top bunk and that my friends are thousands of miles away and in spite of the fact that I'm "home" I don't quite feel home.
And then there are mornings like today when I hear the lyrics "people are strange when you're a stranger" on the radio and start crying in the restaurant for no apparent reason, much to my (and my Dad's) bewilderment.
Like I said, re-entry = mentally off.
Or maybe I'm just "home" nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
There are the mornings I wake up and go downstairs for breakfast, and stand, somewhat overwhelmed, at the well-stocked kitchen shelves in front of me with no fewer than 6 kinds of tea (I'm indecisive even when faced between black and green tea). Then there are the mornings when I don't even leave my room before I'm astounded at the size of my room and the softness of the carpet and the smell of my books and the clothes in my closet (the ones I'd forgotten I'd had these past ten months). And there are even mornings when I don't even make it out of bed before I remember that I'm not on the top bunk and that my friends are thousands of miles away and in spite of the fact that I'm "home" I don't quite feel home.
And then there are mornings like today when I hear the lyrics "people are strange when you're a stranger" on the radio and start crying in the restaurant for no apparent reason, much to my (and my Dad's) bewilderment.
Like I said, re-entry = mentally off.
Or maybe I'm just "home" nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
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