Well, here I am. Back at the place I started but never was really here.
One would think that to return to the town where you were raised, to work at the church you grew up in, and to live with your parents... there would be a sense of familiarity in the air. But after you've been gone six years... things change. I keep thinking I should know everyone, but I don't. I've even gotten lost once already, in an area I have driven in a thousand times.
I'm learning quite a bit about myself in my current circumstances. I'm reading Wild At Heart by John Eldredge. He speaks of "The Wounded Man." How every man has deep seeded wounds. Some are related to childhood, some to father figures, and some that go back to Eden. All in all this is becoming a very humbling experience. I'm pretty sure that my want or need for independence may have become an issue of pride for me. I think, I believe that a man's right of passage is to be independent. And by that I mean, "I don't need anyone" is the sign of manhood. That is why in high school I enjoyed making my own money and being independent of my parents as much as possible. Then I went to college and for four years, I only returned home when my mother would complain she hadn't seen me in a month or two. And even now, I really don't like the fact I am temporarily staying at home with my parents. I have an apartment lined up, I know this is just a temporary situation... in fact, it's a very generous gift that my parents are giving me. Rather than accepting graciously, I feel inside as if this is somehow making me less a man.
I'm trying to reevaluate my measures for success.
Homecoming
Would you rather...
So, I think next year I will opt for getting a flu shot. I have a phobia of getting a shot (not of needles) and I avoid getting a shot at all costs if I can. So when the news said that this year's flu would be really bad, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It can't be worse than a shot."
In November I went to the hospital because I was vomiting and having diarea so bad, I dehydrated in about six hours. Sunday night I awoke yet again to that terrifying feeling that you have to throw up and you start to calculate the distance to the bathroom knowing the whole time... your not going to make it. I didn't have to go to the emergency room this time, but in retrospect I think I would have rather had the shot.
Now I have to figure out how to clean the wall of my hallway which resembles the house in the Exorcist now. Any tips?
One More Time With Feeling
Sorry about the relocation. I'm going to try this blogging thing one more time. I'm going to try and keep it easy going this time. The heavy stuff I'll just write in my journal.