Getting back into the habit of writing has been a challenge, surprisingly. I don’t love it any less, but I find myself having too many things to write about. I don’t even know how to begin organizing them into coherent thoughts that make sense to outsiders. Part of me wants to share my experience in Honduras, and part of me feels like that’s too personal to share. The internet is a scary place to put personal thoughts. Although the question of what I want to write about is plaguing me, I do in fact know that I want to write at least something. Hence this pointless post.
I feel so stressed. No matter how much I try to not care, it’s just so exhausting. The simple life was so much easier. I completely understand why Americans are so uptight and cold and overall angry in comparison to other cultures. Can we just go back to the simple life? That life where you actually have conversations with the people sitting at the dinner table, rather than those so many miles away through your handheld device. That life where you smile and greet passersby, rather than keep your eyes to the ground and ignore the existence of other humans. That life where patience and random acts of kindness exist, rather than people yelling at each other almost constantly.
Man, I just don’t know. I think the reason I’m stressed is because I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus, and I’m experiencing culture shock. The last time I came back from a foreign country, it took me a while to get back adjusted, but I didn’t expect that to happen every time. For some reason, I just can’t come back very easily. I’m beginning to believe I just clearly don’t belong here. I may have been born here. I may have been raised here. This may be “my culture”. But… I’m thinking I was born and raised in the wrong culture, because obviously I’m having issues.