guest blogger series - stephanie, who doesn't have a blog

So I asked my friend Stephanie to write a guest blogger post for me.  She doesn't have a blog herself, but she is one of the strongest women I know, and I am always interested in hearing her frank, honest take on things.  We have known each other for almost 20 years (ALMOST 20 YEARS!!!), and she sure knows a lot about home sickness.  So, without further adieu.....

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{image taken from here}

As we were about to board the plane, I suddenly realized…HOLY CRAP, I am moving myself and my entire family across the country. Granted the realization should probably have come at some point in the months leading up to this, and not as they were calling for general boarding, but one can’t pick their moments now can they? The realization finally sank in….I was leaving my sisters, brother and parents behind. I also knew that one day my sister would likely have a baby and I wasn’t going to be there. But alas, I swallowed those feelings - it was final boarding call after all! It was really the first time I had allowed myself to feel the magnitude of what I was doing. I was voluntarily moving away from everyone. I kept telling myself I was making a better life for myself.


I’ll be honest in saying, I wasn’t really homesick at first. We moved in August, and I knew we’d be back at Christmas. I also made a quick stop home at Thanksgiving on my way to training. So really I didn’t feel like I had been gone. It was more like 7 or 8 months after we moved that I really started to feel it. The realization - life goes on without me there….can you imagine? The nerve! Not moping around being depressed that I wasn’t around anymore?! But that’s when I really realized, I was alone and far far away from home. I couldn’t just go over to my parents’ for dinner and catch up with everyone, or call my brother up for some babysitting and drinks. I’m not sure I can put into words the feelings. It’s a kind of pain - but a selfish pain. You ache for what you are missing. It’s the feeling of wanting to run home and make sure no one has forgotten about you; feeling isolated from your own family. For me, that’s how homesickness manifested itself - feeling left out. Whether intentional or not, I did feel it. My grandmother passed away and I couldn’t make it back in time for the funeral. Everyone was so understanding, but really, I was mad. How dare they go ahead and have the funeral without me? How come I was no longer important enough to take into consideration? I felt like because I moved, I was being punished by being left out. Those feelings continued. I was the last to know my sister was expecting. My grandfather got sick and I only ever got ½ the information. I was hurt. I felt isolated, so far away. And quite frankly, it was all out of my control.


In the end, I jetted home for less than a week at the end of the summer. I couldn’t bare to be away any longer. I needed to see my family. I needed to know I still belonged; that I mattered. I needed to know I was still a Smythe even though I didn’t live with them anymore. In the first 16 months since I moved I had been home like 4 times. I needed to see them to feel reassured. To make sure they didn’t forget about me.


But slowly, ever so slowly, the allure of riding planes all day, drudging through airports, lost its appeal. I didn’t feel the need to trek home to feel like I belonged. Maybe it’s because, less and less, that’s not home. It’s my parents’ home. I have my own home and my own family. I have friends who make me feel like I belong - right here. And maybe that’s what growing up and moving away is supposed to do.