I was going to post this guy to fb last night, looks like I should have.
I was eating lunch at McDonalds somewhere (it had to be done) and my body said, "I want to go home." I said, there is no home of the sort you are looking for. The weepy fear and panic that comes with pulling yourself out of your support system and daily routine has arrived. My body actually wants to go back to work. I am tired, weak, managed half a smile at someone here at the hostel a moment ago, and mostly want to look at my laptop screen.
I had a beer and some food at an anonymous sports bar earlier this evening, and while watching baseball on 8 screens I thought back to my first day in Auckland in late 2008, sitting by myself in a restaurant. I had no idea what I was doing there. No idea what I should do with myself. Embarrassed that I was by myself. Something like shell shock. I certainly didn't feel right in the head. I don't feel remotely that bad tonight.
That trip turned into months of wonderful bliss that my body needed as badly as anything a body needs. I hope for some of that again, but this trip needs to be more purposeful. I don't know how or where. But that is sort of the point.
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