I left the country, I was born in, 5 years ago and I have not been back during those 5 years.
I left without a lot of planning. It was a quick decision and it was good that I made it because the moment I left that country my mental state started improving and by now I am pretty much back to normal, whatever one may consider to be normal.
My mom has been asking if I could come for a visit. She has been asking for a while now and there is no good reason anymore to not come for a visit. Now I have a job, I kinda settled down for now, and I have the cash.
So I bought plane tickets for my husband and me and we are going to visit soon.
I feel a little weird. I know many people who are away from home and they miss their families and they love it when they can return. I don’t.
What I mostly connect to that country is being miserable. Maybe it changed now that I am over pretty much everything and nothing forces me to stay there.
But still I feel very odd going there.
At first I thought about meeting up with my grandparents but I don’t think they deserve it.
Then I thought about meeting up with my father but I don’t think he is interested.
I thought about meeting up with both my brothers but I only really want to see one of them.
I will, of course, meet my mom and that is fine although I know it will be exhausting.
I will also meet at least one good friend.
What I planned is a lot for those two days.
I am going to show my husband a lot of things, we will certainly be occupied. The meet ups I hope can take place in the evening. We can probably just go to a cafe or a restaurant, this way it won’t be so rude if I wanna leave at some point.
It’s just this feeling … to go back to where everything bad is sleeping. Everything bad that ever happened to me and I am proud to have broken all the bonds that connected me to that country, apart from my nationality of course.
I am scared shitless that all my sanity will crumble there. I feel safer of course, because I have my husband, and he is great at reading my early signs and keeping me in a state. He won’t let me drown but still it will be exhausting I think. It is not like I really wanna go. I am pretty much going because my mom has been asking for such a long time…
My home is not there. My home is here. Right here, where I am now. I love this country, I love this city, I love this house, the job, the landlord, the few friends I have. This is my home, I feel good here, and safe, and not mentally handicapped.
Is it normal to be so scared by a place… By “your own country”… It’s not my country. I never felt like a national there.
I feel like one now, I feel like a national here where I am. And I want to change nationalities once the time comes. I just feel like this is my place and I want to stay.
Dunno, thoughts circling in my head.