I’m Not Homesick Except When I Am

My current Juneau experience bears a few striking similarities to my situation in Macon.

• I live 8 minutes from downtown (well, at least going)
• I have to walk uphill to get home (though the degree difference is striking)
• My apartment is perfect for me
• My landlord is great.
• I spend a lot of time with Netflix

My new going home incline

The only thing I’m missing is a new, steady group of friends. I know it’ll be hard to replace some of you. How am I going to find someone who will drink more than one frozen beverage with Everclear in it, even when she knows she’s going to suffer for it and hate me a little even as she orders that third one? Or a friend that will arrange family dinner with red wine and whiskey. Or a friend that reads more than I do and can converse intelligently on just about any topic. Or a friend who will convince me to go home at 3am when we’re still at BJs – or let me walk home alone because he knows I can take care of myself. Or a friend who loves strawberries and gin as much as I do? What about the friend who will always make me dinner, drink whiskey with me or fall asleep watching a movie and all I have to do is ask? Ask, hell! All I have to do is show up. LYMI.  The friend who will find me a cigar when I need one? The friend who knows my nerdy tv quotes when I say them.

Basically, I miss everyone.

I was watching Netflix on the comfy chair and Twix was stretched across me. She looks at me and gives a sad meow. I know she misses curling up with KitKat, attacking her out of nowhere, and all the cat shenanigans they would get into. Yet I’ve moved her away from everything familiar, I lost her sister, and there are not as many nooks and crannies in this place as there were in the old place. It made me want to cry.

All by herself

Not having a job is a strain. Not having friends is a strain. Not having a can opener or a 2 quart pot is a strain. Funnily enough, it’s the same strain because it points out how different things are. I don’t have real silverware or dinnerware. I can see the strain on poor Twix. Even though she has been a real comfort for me, I think that I should have taken the offer to re-home KitKat and Twix. At least then they would still be together, they wouldn’t have had the stress of moving across the country, and KitKat would have a whole new set of hands to love on her as much as she wants.

I miss her so much.

This week has been a week of tears. Missing my friends has grown to the point where I can’t stop crying about it. Even though I said I’d cry about KitKat when I got a job, I can’t hold back the sad. This week the move has felt the most like a mistake of any time since I left. I’ve never felt so far away from everything.

I went out this past Friday with a great new group of people. I am meeting new people. But they’re not my old people and as much as I understand that it takes a while to make friends as awesome as the ones I left (as if anyone can match them), I still want them to be as awesome already. I had a lot of fun Friday, but everyone left before the night ended and I was there alone. The contrast between my old life and my current life stood out and the walk home was very introspective. By the end of the night, the Viking was filled with VERY drunk older people but a lot more younger people trying to figure out what they were doing next. I was suddenly out of my element. I suddenly missed everyone again. I didn’t have the money to keep the night going by myself and I didn’t have a slew of friends that would make that okay.

Basically, I miss everyone.

I know this is fleeting. Once I’m employed, once I’m making friends on my own, this feeling will begin to dull. I got a pep talk from my birthday buddy, but when you’re feeling depressed, it’s hard to see the bright side. I know it’ll get better. This trip was built on the concept that I’ve gotten through every troublesome spot I’ve been in (with and without help) and I will definitely continue to do so. But for now, I’m feeling awfully homesick for the people I love.