Misery Loves Company

I always knew this week would be hard. I’m typing this on Good Friday. Aside from all my family members’ birthdays, Easter is the main holiday I’m missing. This blog isn’t the place to get deeply into it, but suffice it to say that I have thoroughly enjoyed the past few Easters with my church choir. The music is beautiful, as is the service, and I love the way Easter’s symbolism converges with the agricultural calendar.

On my mind this weekend...

All this to say that I’m a little wistful this weekend, an ocean away from the people and places that mean so much to me. I knew this would happen, and I was already prepared for a rough week.

Then I got sick. The shaking chills, plugged ears, swollen glands, tight-chested, coughing-until-you-feel-you-can’t-breathe kind of sick. I’m on the mend, but it was worst Tuesday night. At about 12:30 am, while I lay in bed, gasping and sweating, a movie and laughter blared in the room next to mine. I’d already asked them to turn it down once, and I certainly wasn’t leaving my bed again.   

That night, for the first time, I thought: You know what? Screw it. I want to go home. I miss my friends.  I want my apartment back. I’m sick, and alone, and living in a glorified dorm. Screw it.

I had enough sense to realize that my illness was likely behind this outpouring of emotion (at least in part). So, I told myself that if I felt as miserable in the morning, I would see the International Student Advisers.

Luckily, I didn’t have to. Then, after choir yesterday, I got to talking with one of the friends I’ve made here: a girl from California. The Californian admitted that she’d already been to the Advisers, and admonished me for not calling her in the depths of my misery.

It’s hard for me to ask for help. But sharing our homesickness was like taking a sigh of relief – just knowing there’s someone else who feels the same. It’s a nice reminder that opening up can be a good thing.  

And so… back on track, and looking forward to my trip to Oamaru – the Steampunk/Victoriana capital of the South Island (who knew, right?).  

No, I will NOT be asking them, "Are you hot?" or "Are you Amish?" or "Are those your real clothes?" Adventures in historical interpretation could be a whole other post, if not another blog entirely.

Posted on April 5, 2012, in Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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