October 22, 2003

There's No Place Like Home

...wherever that is.

I flew into Dallas yesterday afternoon seated next to Bill, the artillery gunner in the Army that was a chatty Cathy. Unusually, we took a dive over downtown Dallas, which maybe is not the most impressive skyline but has lots of nice, big, pretty buildings.

And that's where the memories hit.

The keystone building where Kim and I snuck in with a bottle of wine, to sit on the top floor overlooking Dallas while we got to know each other on our third date.

The neighborhood where he and I lived.

The interstates where I drove to and from university, home, Dallas Stars games.

The new Dallas Stars arena, which I have never been to.

The neighborhood where I bought my first house and lived alone. A rough part of the city, in a perfect little house with a perfect little dog and a perfect little car, where I took time to explore my mind and figure out who the hell I was.

At the airport, they gave me a brand new Mustang, complete with V8 engine (silly Hertz. Never give Helen a fast car!) Driving to my mother's house, I remembered so much about the area-the EDGE playing on the radio. The hot Texas sun setting over the airport. And nearly everywhere, there was the ghost of Kim.

I will bury him soon, because I need him to just go away and let me be.

At my mother's house, my mother, grandmother, stepfather, sister, and her boyfriend met me and we went to dinner. My sister talked only of her team (she is a cheerleader for a professional sports team in Dallas). We barely talked, and when we did, we didn't get along. Once she was my best friend. Now she is barely an acquaintance. My family talked of private, day-to-day things, personal jokes, things I knew nothing about, things that don't concern me.

I focused on my wine, tried to eat some dinner, and look cheerful.

Inside I learned that I am more alone than I ever knew.

And I realized-I have been working so hard to get away from who I am, where I am from, what I have been, that I built myself my own castle. Thick, concrete and brick walls. And a big moat around it. I worked so hard to be my own person that I lost everyone that had been in my life.

I don't belong here. I am not a local. I am not American, I am not Swedish, I am not European. My Partner Unit is not my man, Kim is not my man, and the only thing in the world that I know, is that my heart hurts with the automatic swish opening of the doors in the grocery store. I keep turning my head when I hear American English, which is just habit. I can't reach out and talk to my mother when she came into my room for a hug and a chat before bed. It broke her heart, and mine too. I wanted to talk, but I couldn't find any words.

I'm crazy, Mom.
I worry all the time, Mom.
I miss you, Mom.

My walls are too big. My moat is too deep.

I slept with my arms curled around Luuk again, and the sound of my heart breaking was so loud it woke the neighbors.

-H.

Posted by Everydaystranger at October 22, 2003 05:52 PM | TrackBack
Comments

Buck up, little camper. I've been engrossed in a certain e-mail correspondence the last few days, and have actually not read the web site. Sorry. I also traveled a far distance from my parents (although religiously), and it took a while for them to accept. I had changed, they hadn't. And it was tough for while.

I can't help but feel for you, for your feelings of isolation. But castles are made by us. And remember, anything that can be made by human hands, can be dismantled by human hands. But it takes time and effort. The only solace that you can take is that there are people rooting for you. Over there, and out here. I'm one of them.

Hank.

Posted by: Hank at October 23, 2003 06:25 PM

wow so many good comments and insight. I'll just quote a depressing moby song that seems vaugely appropriate.

When It's Cold I'd Like To Die

Where were you when I was lonesome?
Locked away with freezing cold
Someone flying only stolen
I can't tell this light so old
I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim forever
When it's cold I'd like to die
What was that my sweet sweet nothing?
I can't hear you through the fog
If I holler let me go
If I falter let me know
I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim forever
When it's cold I'd like to die
I don't want to swim forever
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim the ocean
When it's cold I'd like to die
I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to figh the tide


Posted by: pylorns at October 23, 2003 05:07 PM

{{{{h}}}}}

Posted by: jean at October 23, 2003 05:31 AM

I have to jump in here and say from a parent's perspective of a child who is also far from home and always feels the need to see new places - you don't realize from the parent's view that we understand more than you believe. As a mother, I am here waiting for whatever it is my child is looking for, wherever it is. You miss your mother, your mother misses you, I'm sure. But as a mother, we all have to step back and watch and wait. We always want the best for our children and if you haven't had a child leave the nest trying to find themselves, you don't understand how much a mother hurts when they hurt. I miss my child very much but I will always be here when they finally find what they are looking for, or if they never find what they are looking for. You probably would be very surprised how much your mother does know what you are going through. But, as mothers do, we all sit quietly and wait until you ask for us to help. You're an adult, but you will always be someone's child. Remember that. You have not necessarily broken out of any molds, you are just looking for something different. You are not accessible because you chose to not be. You have built walls and only you can put some windows and doors in. Your family has to wait for you. Maybe it just seemed as if there were private asides because you were hiding. Your family will always be there when you need them but we all know we have to give our adult children room to grow; and sometimes fall down. We want to help them up all the time but that's not always good either. It's hard being a mother - but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love my children as your mother does. She is there; she cares. As I do, she will wait for you. When you need a band-aid, all you have to do is call. I bet she has a whole cabinet full!

Posted by: at October 23, 2003 04:15 AM

There are stars whose radiance is visible on earth though they have long been extinct. There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark.
---Hannah Senesh

Often I have found that people try to "bury" or forget, etcetera, a person in an attempt to mute pain. I have also found that blotting out someone will generally not make the hurt, the feeling of betrayal and the longing, go away. The sadness does not lie in the memories of a person. It lies in the way you're remembering them.

Then again, I could be completely wrong. It's been known to happen. ;]

Blah.

..I hate it when I do not have the right words. Words are pretty much all that can be offered here, but I have none of due comfort. This is probably a good thing though, because I would advise that no one should ever follow my advice. I have found, however, there is something that bleaches out almost all of the shadowed moments had with close family. They're still there, yeah, but they're covered just enough to be ignored when necessary. And mothers, especially, are prone to ignore such moments. So, the next time your mum comes in for a hug and a chat before bed, give her a hug and instead of trying to find words, let them vomit from your mouth. Or don't.

If all else fails, two hugs is good also.

And finally, smile. It sends happy chemicals to your brain, which in turn, makes you feel better, which usually makes you smile, which sends happy chemicals to your brain, which.. yeah, you get the idea.

Posted by: Jamie at October 23, 2003 03:42 AM

I had the same problem coming back from different stints around the the planet.

Hearing English after months or years of Flemish, German, French, Turkish, Arabic, or "Proper" English only to return to the land of "fixin' to" and "ya'll". . .

Take the time to continue being yourself. Don't wait for the others to catch on. . . they rarely do.

Posted by: jcrue at October 23, 2003 12:29 AM

It sounds incredibly sad to return home. I don't think you're crazy but you bear little in common to your family. You travel the world, you broke out of the mold and they, I think, have a hard time accessing you as a result.

Being alone and being lonely are two very different things. I'm rarely lonely though I'm often alone.

Maybe it would be easier to break the ice with your mom by writing it out? Sometimes you just need to get a bump to crack the floodgates and then the weight of the world will do the rest.

Keep in mind that you're also dealing with culture shock as well as memory shock. Give yourself a little time to settle in.

Posted by: Johnny Huh? at October 22, 2003 10:51 PM

H, you're not alone. I mean that figuratively. We (those of us who are actually awake, aware) have all been some place similar to where you are now. I am thankful for my experiences. I think, one day, you will be too. Keep looking...

Posted by: Clancy at October 22, 2003 09:20 PM

Helen,

I am not going to tell you that you are not alone, because if that is how you feel then that is what you are right now. I lay in bed at night with my partner unit next to me and I feel alone sometimes. I can be with close friends having a good time, yet I feel this nagging feeling of being alone, not because I cannot open up to people, but because it is part of the human condition. Loneliness is something that is part of our lives and is impossible to avoid, but the emotional void of feeling alone can be disturbing and harmful is dwelt on for to long. You have far to many positives in your life to dwell in this void Helen. Although you might have put up a barrier between yourself and others, just realizing this alone is a great step and shows that you are willing to fill this void with something. I wish you the best and if I can ever help please let me know…


Wired Nerve

Posted by: Wired Nerve at October 22, 2003 09:17 PM

sorry -- that link to Henry should have been:

http://www.cordair.com/cordair/henry.aspx

Posted by: Quent Cordair at October 22, 2003 09:00 PM

Hi, Helen,

There is some good moats-and-walls therapy in the SF area, if you're interested when you come through -- a charming little gallery full of therapeutic, uplifting, beautiful, inspiring painting and sculpture, about four miles south of SFO, in the lovely town of Burlingame. ( http://www.cordair.com ) Awhile back, I painted a portrait of one of Luuk's cousins -- Henry -- which I think might give you a smile: http://www.cordair.com/cordair/henry.htm
I think you'd love meeting Linda, who runs the gallery and is about the sweetest ever. I should know; she's my girlfriend. Maybe we'll see you. You would be very welcome. If we don't see you, enjoy the painting of Henry and my very best wishes with all you're going through presently. You'll be fine. Try to not to worry too much. Enjoy the day.

Posted by: Quent Cordair at October 22, 2003 08:57 PM

H
Even if I don't know you personally. Just know your not alone. I've been reading your blog for about 2 weeks now and think your great. I'm addicted!
I too have moved far away from my family from Cali to Ohio. (Don't ask too long of a story). Although, it's not out of the Country it may as well be. I went through the same things that your feeling. I felt so alienated. Just concentrate on the people closest to you and things will work out just fine.

Posted by: Tiffani at October 22, 2003 08:41 PM

You're not crazy. I've seen crazy and been much closer to it than I ever care to dwell on - you're not it.

Keep looking. You're going to find it one day. And you're going to be okay.

Posted by: David at October 22, 2003 07:16 PM

No wonder I couldnt sleep last night. Im too worried about you.

The good things about castles are that you can leave them. Its hard going back home when you have been away for a while. But know that you found a home here and we all care about you and your well being.

Drew

Posted by: Drew at October 22, 2003 06:43 PM

Ssh, H. Deep breathing. Hot bath. You are *not* alone.

Posted by: Kaetchen at October 22, 2003 06:16 PM
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