It's strange to be back because everyone wants to hear about England, but I don't really know what to say. It's easy enough to say what I did every day: clean the house, look after the children, feed demonic chickens, muck out the occasional stall. It's not at all easy to explain the effect that living thousands of miles away from friends and family had on me. For the first time ever I was forced to rely completely on myself. I never realized how often I use people as a crutch. I don't mean that to sound as awful as it does. I didn't consciously "use" people. I just mean that I would kind of depend on others in social situations. I'd never step out of my comfort zone, I'd never go places by myself or really even make friends with someone new without the support of my existing friends. But being on my own like that created a sort of ultimatum: I could either keep to myself and be pretty miserable, or man (woman?) up and try new things that were scary to me.
Like going places by myself. This was uncomfortable situation number one. Living in social Siberia was tough to get used to. The part of England that I lived in was amazing, rolling hills of green and hedgerows everywhere... but it reminded me of a quote from a book I once read. "It's like living in the petals of a poisonous flower. It's beautiful, but it kills you." Okay... so it wouldn't have physically killed me... but my social life was definitely in mortal peril. After the first month I realized how easy it had become to get sucked into the lifestyle of living through Facebook. I didn't want that. As comfortable as it was to sit and maintain connections with everyone back home via the internet, I knew I'd regret not doing other stuff while I was out there. So even though it made me really uncomfortable, I started going out by myself. It started with a couple of movies and escalated from there, and by the time I came home I'd been all over the Southwest by my onesy. And I'll tell you, it wasn't that bad. By the end of my time there I'd actually grown to love traveling solo: I was free to see and do what I wanted without having to worry about accommodating someone else.
Meeting new people was a toughie at first as well, mostly just because there weren't too many people I could relate to out there (by this I mean there were ZERO 22-year-old history graduates from America within a 50 mile radius. Surprising, I know.). I have to admit that I was pretty childish about this to begin with. I didn't really know how to cope. I'd just spent 4 years at college --I didn't have to put forth any effort to find people in similar circumstances to my own. Suddenly that all changed. But this, like everything else in life, got better with time. Eventually I embraced the fact that I really wasn't in a situation that was at all similar to what I had been used to up to that point, and that was okay. This is probably pretty basic for most, but it was huge for me. I can't explain to you how much I resist change in any form. Openly acknowledging and even accepting the complete difference between my old lifestyle and my new one was quite the accomplishment. I started really enjoying the time I spent with the people I came to know, even though we were in completely different stages of life. It really amazes me to realize how much other people can teach you, regardless of what walk of life they are currently on or have come from.
So... now you know. It doesn't seem all that interesting to tell people what I did in England. I feel like England did much more for me (cheesy, cheesy, lemon squeezy, but actually really true). It was really exactly what I needed to get my head on straight and figure out who I am. I feel like I am constantly working on the latter part of that statement, but I think that's how it's supposed to be. And I'm okay with that.
