I Really Should Be In Bed, But Whatever...

And I really shouldn't be doing any more of these ridiculous 3am posts, but I sat down to write in my journal tonight and this is what came out:

Tonight I have been thinking a lot about what it’s going to be like to leave this place at the end of the year. Maybe it’s the mournful soundtrack to Jenseits der Stille that I’m listening to or maybe it’s something else. All I know is that right now I can’t shake the thought of how hard I think it’s going to be to board the train that will take me away from this place.

Imagine that. I’ll be standing there on the platform with all my luggage, watching the train pull up and knowing that once I get on that train the beginning of the end will start. I’ll get on, the train will pull out of the station, with me strained against the window trying to catch every last glimpse of Tübingen possible…and then suddenly I’ll see nothing but countryside. The train will chug along…and reach Stuttgart. I’ll then take the S-bahn to the airport, board my flight, and sit there…

Looking out the window at the tarmac, I’ll think about everything I’ve done this year. I’ll think about all the people I’ve met and now have to leave behind – again. The plane will lift off, and my heart will sink as it becomes airborne…up, up, up…higher….and gleichzeitig I'll be going lower, lower, lower…

Germany will fade below me. It’s over. When I touch down in Seattle, Germany will once again assume that sort of hazy existence that it always has in the States – as if it’s just sort of “stopped” and is on hold while I’m gone, as if it doesn’t really exist and never really did. It was all just a dream, Matthew. You were never there.

Right now the United States is on hold. It’s this far-off place that has no relation to me at all and holds no bearing on my life at this moment. It does not matter. In 9 months Germany will become the same.

I don’t know if I can handle that.

For the past few months I’ve been hoping that this year will go by quickly so that I can get back to my life at home. But lately what I’ve been noticing is that I don’t really feel that way anymore. This is home now. It really is. I left what used to be home behind, and I’ve traded one life for another, even though I haven’t become what I could call a “temporary European.” I’ve switched continents. My life has shifted to the point that I cannot imagine not living here. I feel like I’ve lived here all my life, as stupid and weird as that sounds. How can I leave this place? This is home. Home. "Home is where they understand you."

What really scares me is that I feel this way barely 3.5 monts into my stay. I didn't expect this so soon. If this feeling of dread is this bad now, what's it going to be like in 9 months?

I recently had a dream. In the dream, I secretly flew back to ASU with the intention of showing up on campus and surprising all my friends. After many hours of travel, I finally stood on Apache Boulevard, near the parking lot, looking across the street at the BHC campus. I thought, "Okay Matt....all you have to do is walk in there and surprise everyone. That's it. Just walk in." But I couldn't bring myself to move. And then I realized something. I realized that the moment I walked in there I would run into someone I knew. I would run into all my good friends, all my memories, and Germany would evaporate. Gone, just like that.

And so I turned and walked away. I left. I walked away from the BHC campus, away from ASU, and I didn't go back. Then I woke up. I laid there in bed staring out the window at the first groggy hints of dawn struggling to break through the early morning darkness and fought the rising nausea that was twisting my stomach into a tight knot.

I just can’t imagine having to pack up and leave here, even though I know that that day is SO far in the future and I really should be enjoying the present. And I am. I really am loving it here. But I feel like I’m going to stay here forever. Is this part of what God is trying to show me this year? Is He trying to prepare my heart for an eventual permanent transatlantic emigration? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Going back to the States is going to be bittersweet. I know that I’m going to be so glad to see my family and my friends and have my “real life” back. But at the same time I know that I’m going to be incredibly homesick for Germany. I know that I’m going to want to come back here. I can feel it already in the form of this sort of panic that creeps into my thoughts every time I think about going back to the U.S. "Leave? No! I can't leave! I can't! I know you all miss me -- but how can you ask me to give this up?? This is my life!"

What does that mean? What am I supposed to do with that? What do you do when you feel like home is split not only between two U.S. states, but between two entire continents? They can’t be reconcilable. You can’t be in two places at once.

I keep saying stuff like this over and over and I'm sure it's getting annoying and starting to sound like some sort of melodramatic emo rant, but this online journal is meant to serve as a time capsule of sorts as well as a public record, and this is how I feel right now at this moment in time. If it's any consolation to you readers out there, I promise I will never start weeping because life is "so moving."

Like I said, there will be plenty of time for me to sort this all out in about 9 months. But for some reason I felt it needed to be addressed at least partially tonight. I'll cross this bridge when I come to it, but right now I just want to pull out the binoculars and look at it.

And with that planted firmly on paper (screen) I am going to bed to let my subconscious mull it over.