Old Journals

So I have very little to write about. My mind hasn't been allowed to wander, I haven't had any life-changing experiences...Life has been decently mellow lately. No drama to report. I had my first photo shoot the other day, it went splendidly. It would seem I am designing and creating and taking pictures for a million people this week.
I took some time yesterday to go through some old journals and I decided I would post some of my entries from our trip home last spring.

Sunday, May 2nd, 2010
Well, I'm on my way home for 6 weeks! It's not nearly long enough. It's been almost a year since I journaled...It's taken me a long time to be able to journal again, write again....live again. When we left Africa my world fell apart. Watching those gates close as we drove away, taking me away from all I knew and loved. If that wasn't heartbreak then I don't know what is! When we got to the States, my friends were not my friends, my life was not my life.
In Grandma's dark house I was depressed. I watched TV, I ate food because it was there, I stared at the computer screen, blank. Words no longer obeyed me. They no longer made beautiful worlds for me to hide away in. A writed who runs out of words? It's like I lost EVERYTHING. I found no joy in life. I can hardly remember those months. But slowly the world got a bit more prominent and reality hit me hard. I spent the winter being angry but when spring came I decided to change. I got better at being happy. I found friends again, I found purpose and I felt okay. But now...Now I am so excited. I am ready to go home.
But I'm scared.
What if I get there and I don't belong any more? What if home isn't home? I don't belong in America, and if I don't belong in RCI...then where? Where do I go? And what if I do belong? What if I feel wonderful and amazing and then have to leave all over again? I don't want to feel that again. I can't. But then again, what if I get closure? What if I am able to move on? Do I really want the African part of my life to be over? So anyway we look at it, I get hurt. Like I got hurt so many times before.
I am so torn. I don't want to repeat the process but I don't want to hurt anymore. I want to feel happy again.....we're getting ready to land....I guess we'll see.

Wednesday, May 5th, 2010

Okay, so it's time to unravel my feelings. I don't know...this place is perfect! When we got here I didn't get overjoyed or ecstatic. I just felt...right. Like, this is it. This is where I am supposed to be. Air so moist and sweet, it is the glue that put my hear back together again. Everything is green. Everything is thriving and alive. People, animals, cars, colors, smells, everywhere! And that night, in the thundering rain, I longed to leap into the past. I want my old life so, so badly it tore me to peices. I want my house with the jungle-like yard, my bedroom with the matress with the rusty springs and my red tile floor. I want my living room that was home to so many memories. I want my familiar kitchen and my terrace, the squeak of mom's bathroom door, the all-too normal knock at the gate. I want to go to church every sunday and teach those beautiful kids. I want to fell the drums reverberate in my chest. I want to sit at Elo's making croquettes, laughing at Lewis. I want to go to the market, I want to play football with Moussa and Abou. I want to see every single Harmatan sunset and I want to dance in every rain storm. I dont want to miss another semenair, I dont want to hear about Christmas, summer and sleep overs! I want it all back so much it makes me physically hurt. And I didn't know how much I needed Africa. I've been away from home for so long I almost forgot where I belong. Here I am, beautiful and whole again. Oh, I need to come home. I love Shelby and Brinley and Noel and Lea but I grew up with Elo and Carol, Jinan and Dalal, Moussa and Abou and Lewis. I know them and they know me. The real me. We are such deep, unshakable friends that a year apart has done nothing to mar our friendship.I love it here. I love every aspect of it. Even the bad parts only serve to illuminate and heighten the wonderful parts. Africa just fills me with passion. Passion for the world and for making a difference. I want to write, to paint, to sing, to dance. I love the people. I love the feel of their proximity, their hands in mine...this may sound naive but it feels like anything is possible here. It's never going to be the same, I know. And sometimes it makes me sick to think of it. But for now? Well for now, I am going to enjoy every teeny tiny second of it

Hope you enjoyed a glimpse into my trip home last year. It's all I've got for you for now. Goodnight Bloggers!


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