Perhaps its because its already mid August, which means summer is nearly over. Perhaps its because Music Man is diving back into work with gusto. Perhaps its due to the gloomy rainy day.
Whatever the reason, I’ve been feeling homesick lately.
I have been battling this nagging feeling for a while now. I realize that what I’m feeling isn’t so much of missing a particular place on the map, but the feeling I get when I’m home.
Here in Minnesota, we are still getting established. This takes time (obviously), but its the process that is tiring. Putting yourself out there. Putting on your happy and brave face even though your nervous and shy. Feeling like your constantly on a first date. Wondering “hey do you like me?” or “am I getting annoying the way I often feel like I’m annoying other people?” or “I like you want to be friends?“. I mean you might as well put me in coke bottle glasses and give me a lisp I feel so out of place.
I miss familiarity. I miss my friends who already know me and love me despite my glaring flaws. The ones I don’t have to feel like I have to impress. I am not a fan of small talk. I like being in a relationship and already being into the heart of it all. Plop me down in the middle of a friendship where we already know the backstory and are talking about our bad day over our vat of coffee and smeared mascara that we hadn’t wiped off from the night before without the feeling of judgement. I want to be laughing at the insanity that only other harried mothers know. That’s the place I want to be.
I miss the quantity of friends in California. If someone is busy (which many of them are), no worries, there are other friends that might be interested in getting together. Here, I only know a handful of people. This is a small town, so there aren’t that many people, and again, we are just getting going here in our lives as a midwestern family. But with those few friends, you can quickly feel like you have worn out your welcome.
I miss the local restaurants I used to haunt. I miss the ease of shopping my favorite stores. A local Trader Joe’s is a 45 minute jaunt into the city here in Minnesota, but in California it is a mere 5 minute drive. I miss the happy smily customer service that my California workers give me, rather than the stoic midwest seriousness that happens on a Target run.
Don’t misunderstand me. Everybody has been wonderful here and going above and beyond in trying to make us all feel welcome, but sometimes the trial of putting yourself out there again and again is exhausting. And right now I’m a bit tired.