ramblings of a homesick 20 year old

I swore it wouldn't happen to me. I swore I'd be too busy doing fabulous things to even think about home. But in the end I guess it was inevitable- I'm homesick. It has been such a crazy and emotional and FUN experience in Europe, but it's in my quiet moments that it really hits me. I miss America. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss my dogs, my church, my street, my car, Furman, going to Rancho, talking with my sisters, bantering with my brother, taking naps. I. miss. my. life. I don't mean to sound sad- I'm not. To me, sadness and homesickness are two different things. I'm not sad I'm in Belgium, I'm ecstatic. I'm just missing those little things that have made up the whole of me for almost 21 years. 


When I have these moments, I often laughingly look back on my summers as a counselor at Gwynn Valley. There, dealing with homesickness is just one of those things you add to your to do list or your job description: wake up early, sing songs, do crafts, go camping, eat meals, deal with homesick campers. I used to be so perplexed by those little campers who were homesick. Sure, I love my family and missed them too, but didn't these campers realize that they were at one of the coolest places on Earth, doing all of these fun activities? Who had time to be homesick? Well, I guess call me an 8 year old, because here I am, homesick as those weepy campers. I think about what I used to tell them- "Your mom and dad would want you to focus on having a good time!" or "They sent you here because they love you and they know that camp is awesome!" or "Just focus on all the fun you're having!". I repeat these sayings to myself, and still... I remain homesick. 


At first I felt extraordinarily guilty. How dare I have this fabulous opportunity afforded me and answer it by being homesick? How dare I wish for Rancho's cheese dip when I could walk literally 5 minutes and have a famous Belgian waffle? How dare I long for the comforts of my bed in Hartsville when I'm literally living in the CAPITAL of Europe, home to the European Union? How dare I wish for those lazy winter weekends at home when I spend my weekends here traveling to various fabulous, famous European cities? 


What I guess I've come to realize is that it's OKAY. It's ok to miss the stupid little things, like crappy meals in the DH with my best friends, or logging on to a website and having the default language be English, or being able to drive to the places that I want to go. I don't think homesickness is lessening my experience here; rather it is making me even more grateful. On the whole, I'm almost happy about it. It means I have a life that I love, a life that is worth missing. That's not to say that I'm not actually counting down the hours until my family arrives in Europe, or looking forward to December 17th, when I step back on American soil. I don't think that wanting to be home and wanting to be here are necessarily mutually exclusive. I know that doesn't make any sense, but somehow, I've figured out a way to love being here while still longing for home. And for the most part, I'm good with it. Homesickness doesn't control my life here, but it definitely is a part of it. And I'm not sure I'd have it any other way.


The most ironic part of it all? I'm fairly certain that when I get home, I'll be saying "Oh, how I miss Europe..."

But there you have it- the ramblings of an unashamed, homesick 20 year old, who on some days just wants her Momma.