Re-entry is hard to do.

I woke up this morning, my first day back at home after 32 or so long hours of traveling, with an offensive and intense headache. Maybe it’s dehydration or exhaustion, or both, but the cynical and resistant part of my brain thinks my body is rejecting being stateside.

Lee Anne and I survived 4 flights, airplane food (the beef dinner was okay, the “pancake” breakfast was not), having our Appletiser confiscated, the knots in our stomachs as the impending customs screening approached (I was warned that my 10 bottles of South African wine would not make it with me to Logan), and the quiet glee after we cleared customs with ease (“oh, South African wine is wonderful, especially the red” acquiesced the government official). We looked for black people, with impediment, during our layover at Dulles International (there are white people everywhere, can’t seem to escape that fact). As the minutes of our layovers slipped away, Lee Anne and I had a difficult and tearful goodbye, as she head to LaGuardia and me to Logan. I knew in college that we’d be friends forever, and nothing about that has changed – I’ll see her again soon, but there was something devastating about closing out this life-altering experience we’ve shared.

I was greeted in Boston by Alycia and Sabo in Bubble Butt. There were hugs and smiles and beautiful, welcome home/happy birthday, orange daisies. We passed Fenway from the Pike, as Sabo farted on me and the Massholes ran amuck… ah, Boston, you’re my home?

Back at the apartment, amid the messy and unwelcoming kitchen, Mark and I chatted, he asked me if I could would I turn around right now and get back on a plane for more than a day. Without a doubt and not one ounce of hesitation, the answer was an unequivocal yes.

After that I was left to unpack. Clothes are put away, but gifts and art and beaded jewelry and remnants of Cape Town remain happily yet chaotically strewn about. I had about an hour to myself where I pretty much just sobbed. The text message correspondence between Lee Anne went something like this:

L: I feel so weird.. do you?
G: So fucking weird.. and overwhelmed and out of place and super emotional.
L: I completely understand!
G: Thank god you said that. I may be calling you a lot in the next few days.
L: It’s all good.. we have each other! I love you and I’m glad we had the experience together.

So there it is. I feel like I don’t belong, I’m out of place, out of place, out of place. I’m stressed out and overwhelmed and feel like I can’t do this. What’s “this”? Umm, my regular, routine-laden life that existed pre-SA. I’m not the same person that I was one month ago. It sounds cheesy and cliché, but I know that in my core. I don’t know if I can go back to the before and be okay with it.

It’s funny because before leaving for Cape Town I was overwhelmed and emotional and didn’t think I could do it. It’s so different and I’m so different, but those are the exact same words I use to describe my feelings about being back. I’m overwhelmed and emotional and I don’t know if I can do this.

My apartment is cold – literally and figuratively. People here don’t make eye contact. There are big cars and lots of noise and life is rushed and blackberries are everywhere. There is toxicity at work that I didn’t miss and don’t want to have to deal with and become involved in again. The women next to where I currently sit at Lincoln Street Coffee Shop are talking about shoes and mutual funds and that really dangerous neighborhood in Waltham. I own it: I’m judging. Umm, Waltham isn't dangerous and you're lucky to have a mutual fund, even if you've lost some money. I am judging, but trying my fucking hardest to check myself and remind myself that all is relative and all of these feelings and judgments are about me and no one else.

So what do you do with all of this? (That’s not necessarily a rhetorical question.. suggestions are welcome). What do I do?, what have I done? I spend my time looking at the University of Cape Town’s postgraduate programs online, I smile at strangers, think of ways TSS can partner with POH, scheme about how we can start an Ubuntu revolution in the states, offer my seat to people who look like they need it more than I, and I trust that this will get easier.