Going home is always a process for me because after the travelling is over, the adjustment period begins. It can take hours, days, sometimes weeks to feel at home wherever I am.
Finding my space
Things shift while you’re away. Coming home for me is a process of finding my place again. Having to find space for yourself in your own home is strange but necessary. I felt so out of sorts until I had a place that I could withdraw to. I’ve made the little wooden playhouse in my backyard the place where I can get away and be by myself for hours drawing or writing or just thinking. Sometimes I light candles to meditate with… this has become my sanctuary.
Finding my voice
I’m the sort of person that needs to talk or write about things in order to process how I’m feeling. I’ve been feeling frustrated and sort of like I wasn’t fully experiencing things properly. It was only after I noticed that I had left my journal in a box in Berkeley that I realized how much I was missing writing about what I was thinking. Initially, when I realized that my journal wasn’t with my other books and magazines, I felt really low. I had been looking forward to continuing the story of my year, but my stories were inaccessible. In the end, I found a new notebook and decided that it was rather fitting that my last journal captured just this past year. My new notebook is a space for new stories, and in my first go I filled five pages in thirty minutes. I’d missed my time with my thoughts and my paper!
It’s easy to forget about my life in Berkeley when I leave for Irvine, or vice versa when I head back up to school. It’s important, though, to acknowledge that my time at school has left its mark on me. There are things I miss and things that I don’t, but I find it comforting to remind myself of where I’ve been and where I’ll go. Little things like wearing Birks (yeah, they’re fake… thanks, Target), reading Judith Butler, or visiting Daiso remind me of everything that’s happened this past year.