on Homesickness
Homesickness, I have it.
Having never experienced homesickness before this year, I take it as a mark of how much relationships with family and friends have improved in both quality and quantity. That, however, is its only upside.
I have been editing out my rather extreme homesickness (it seems I cannot do anything by halves) from my accounts of my life here, because I don’t want my parents to worry or people to message me and just talk about: am I okay? Do I want to come home?
Blahblahblah.
I knew in theory that homesickness is sad, but I did not know precisely what other worries beset someone who has left so many people they love behind - worries of growing apart, of being replaced, of returning home to shrugs and casual “hi”s instead of hugs and “oh my god, we missed you”s.
People at home have had varying reactions to my attempts to get in touch. Many interpret “I miss you, I wish we could talk more” as an accusation of neglect - which in darker moments it may be - instead of an honest confession. Lack of contact is considered an indication that everything is going well, and that there is no need to get in touch with me. Catch-22.
It is quite a switch to go from Reed to Korea in many ways, but perhaps the hardest for me is to have no one to ask for a hug when I need one.
Perversely, my homesickness makes me want to stay in Korea. Partially, because I’m afraid that coming home will disappoint. Mostly, because I think being alone in Korea has things to teach me. Some are things I have already learned and then forgot: how to be alone without being lonely, or how to make good friends. Some are things I have yet to master: the Korean language, how to make Korean friends, noraebang singing, and cooking Korean food.
In sum: Homesickness does not mean that a person is totally and completely miserable and can find no joy in life. It does mean a longing for contact with home (which may, at times, prove alarmingly elusive). It has a lot to do with isolation in a new place. It has a lot to do with free time and how to fill it. And it has much to do with stories - people to make them with and people to tell them to.
Having never experienced homesickness before this year, I take it as a mark of how much relationships with family and friends have improved in both quality and quantity. That, however, is its only upside.
I have been editing out my rather extreme homesickness (it seems I cannot do anything by halves) from my accounts of my life here, because I don’t want my parents to worry or people to message me and just talk about: am I okay? Do I want to come home?
Blahblahblah.
I knew in theory that homesickness is sad, but I did not know precisely what other worries beset someone who has left so many people they love behind - worries of growing apart, of being replaced, of returning home to shrugs and casual “hi”s instead of hugs and “oh my god, we missed you”s.
People at home have had varying reactions to my attempts to get in touch. Many interpret “I miss you, I wish we could talk more” as an accusation of neglect - which in darker moments it may be - instead of an honest confession. Lack of contact is considered an indication that everything is going well, and that there is no need to get in touch with me. Catch-22.
It is quite a switch to go from Reed to Korea in many ways, but perhaps the hardest for me is to have no one to ask for a hug when I need one.
Perversely, my homesickness makes me want to stay in Korea. Partially, because I’m afraid that coming home will disappoint. Mostly, because I think being alone in Korea has things to teach me. Some are things I have already learned and then forgot: how to be alone without being lonely, or how to make good friends. Some are things I have yet to master: the Korean language, how to make Korean friends, noraebang singing, and cooking Korean food.
In sum: Homesickness does not mean that a person is totally and completely miserable and can find no joy in life. It does mean a longing for contact with home (which may, at times, prove alarmingly elusive). It has a lot to do with isolation in a new place. It has a lot to do with free time and how to fill it. And it has much to do with stories - people to make them with and people to tell them to.