So you’d think around the anniversary of my Coming Back to America (which thus resulted into my “massive reverse-culture-shock-omg-i-can’t-get-over-how-clean-the-air-is-and-how-ignorant-and-self-rightous-my-people-are-i’m-gonna-hide-for-a-couple-weeks-drink-bourbon-and-watch-DVDs-because-I-don’t-know-how-to-jive-with-this” period of life) that I’d realize that WOW it’s been a year that I’m back. This time, last year I was ending one segment of life and going through a change that was more difficult than I’d been through before. It was tough. It really was. So many people, seeing my adventures via Facebook expected me to come back with Tales of the Orient.. and how amazing and magical it was.. Friend: ‘OMG was it awesome?!?!?’ Me: ‘Uhhh, actually it was pretty intense and difficult. China is a tough place.’ Friend: ‘ o.O ???’
I felt when I got back that no one understood what I had been through. Granted, I wasn’t imprisoned in a jungle fortress by headhunters, but I wasn’t chilling in the Maldives, either.
A year and two weeks ago I came back from my short five-month trip to Asia, excited for American life, and forever changed from the experiences that I had while I was away. Good and bad, they existed and I have to be a better person for it, for what else are experiences for but to allow us the opportunity to see things in a new light and (eek!) change ourselves.