Struggling

I am very homesick.

I have never been homesick in my life. When I went to summer camp for the first time at the age of eight, I waved my parents off nonchalantly before I left with my friend and her parents. When I started fourth grade, my first year at public school instead of my tiny private one, I took a deep breath and stepped up into the school bus, emboldened by my fluorescent gymnastics t-shirt. When I moved in to my first dorm, I guiltily relished the moment when my parents pulled away so that I could start sticky-tacking photos to the cinder block walls. Separation anxiety has never been my thing.

But right now, I wish that I were home with such fervor. My early afternoon flight on Thursday seems so far away and tears prick my eyes at the thought of so many hours until I get to leave.

I’ve had a rough day.

I knew that coming to the staff retreat would be difficult for me, but I can handle difficult. I was unprepared for the strain involved with maintaining an enthusiastic demeanor in the context of utter unhappiness. I didn’t anticipate my team’s total disregard for my work — and my corresponding frustration — and tension from disconcerting interactions with a co-worker. I didn’t expect that, when I talked it out quickly with our HR person, I would burst into tears. I had no idea that I would call JG and haltingly sob that “it was just really hard to be here.” The patchy, tinny sympathy due to a cell phone’s limitations was a mere shadow of the comfort available at home and the disparity between the two was wrenching. I wanted to be able to beam myself back, hug JG fiercely, squeeze his hand, and grit my teeth so that I could face it all again. Instead, I wandered down a sidewalk in the Presidio, clutching my phone, and wiped away my tears with my sleeve. When I see it all in one place, the whole picture is incredibly emotional and borderline pathetic. I don’t savor it.

Toward the end of the day, I realized that this is a prime week for me to be highly emotional and physically fatigued. It’s not an excuse for ridiculous behavior, but it’s a fair consideration because it makes everything more so. Headaches are more severe, emotions run higher (or lower), and tiredness hits harder. I need to breathe more deeply, talk more slowly, and consciously set my mind away from thoughts that I know will cause anguish. The tears are too close to the surface for me to allow myself the luxury of self-pity. I have to tell myself, Not now.

I’m grateful that the company talent contest went off without a hitch and ended the day on a high note for me. It’s as though the event consolidates all that is fun and goofy and lighthearted about the organization and that can never hurt. I’m so ready for bed, but I’m really ready for home.