That’s not a new concept in my life but the bathtub epiphany that went with it certainly is.
Over the past few weeks homesickness has cranked up a few levels and I’m barely classified as a functional human being. Depression; frustration; emptiness; longing. The yearning to go back to Scotland has all but wiped out my will to live.
The question is: will landing at Edinburgh airport suddenly change my life?
In some ways it will. The scenery will be completely different; the culture will be worlds apart and there will be new language challenges to conquer. However, I will be the same person. I will not magically be different. The same likes and dislikes will make the journey with me and things that get on my wick here will probably do the same there.
There’s no magic button that ejects all my bullshit at airport security leaving me to walk through the scanner as a baggage-free person.
So who exactly is this mythical being I hope to be when I go ‘home’? The bigger question is, why am I not her now?
The woman who took the trip in November took herself to breakfast and lunch and indulged in little pleasures. She wandered around solo soaking up the history and culture of new cities; (and by new, I mean older than America); she wasn’t afraid to be alone in a strange and unfamiliar place.
So why am I not able to do those things here? The architecture in Edinburgh was breathtaking but then again, Chicago is very architectural in more modern ways. The food experiences were incredible in Scotland. Chicago is equally diverse when it comes to food. There’s everything from Ukrainian to Lebanese and anything in between. The Taste of Chicago is downright delicious! I’ve eaten my way through that more than once.
Museums and art galore in Edinburgh. What about Chicago? Art Institutes and museums aplenty and a pile of experiences to cater to any taste. What’s the difference? Why did it fit there yet doesn’t fit here? Is this purely a mental block I’ve set for myself borne out of a need to be difficult?
My morning commute starts on Route 66 in downtown Chicago. I walk past iconic buildings twice a day, 5 days a week; sometimes stopping to appreciate them; mostly walking at speeds reserved for escaping a burning building, silently cursing slower moving pedestrians.
When you move to a new place, everything is exciting and beautiful but then it becomes just another castle on the corner after 6 months.
If I refuse to get out and appreciate the culture and art around me here, it’s a fair assessment that once the novelty wears off I might fall into the same slump there, pacing around my self-made prison plotting an escape again.
Don’t get me wrong, Scotland is my soul home and I’ll go back if it kills me. Before I do, there’s some internal work I need to take care of. The only way this is going to work is if I am able to live the ‘Scottish’ life I envision NOW, not save it for some future destination and time. I don’t get a new me when I clear customs so I’d best get her out of storage soon or it will all have been for naught.
