Coming home…tell the world that I’m coming home…

For a week anyway. I have been feverishly planning my time while I’m there because it’s such a short amount of time. If it were my choice, I’d be there for 2 weeks. I think that would be a good amount of time. To be able to see people, go out for dinner, walk around my lovely city. But, alas, it’s going to be a whirlwind, with me being there for only about 2 days before going off to my grandparents’ place for my grandma’s birthday, and also going to see my dad. I’m glad to be able to go back to do things like: go to the dentist, get my hair done, buy vitamins etc.

I’ve been asked many times, Why am I staying where I am? I think it’s a mix of fear (not knowing what I’d do when I go home and being in a pile of debt), comfort and a genuine care for the babies. However, it still doesn’t stop me from being Bahhhh going into a 3 day long weekend, which for me means…12 hours per day of babies. You’d think that’d be fun…and it could be and sometimes it is, but we are so restricted in what we can do with them. Ie…we are in the house all day long, except for about an hour and a half where we’re allowed to go for a walk around the compound. That walk saves us from eternal boredom. Because, my function is to always be speaking English…non-stop. All day. It’s exhausting. 3 days in a row? AHHH. I did 9 days in a row this month and it was very challenging.

So, I’m very glad to be going home for a brief, albeit whirlwind, respite.

It’s interesting…last night I had a few realizations right before falling asleep…of course that’s when I was doing all of my thinking. And I thought I felt a shift. But when I woke up this morning, I felt the same.

How do we capitalize on that shifting feeling and keep moving forward? I had a thing I was suppose to go to tonight and I totally bailed. I freaked myself out with the fact that I’d be home late. Then I had things to do once I was home. And then I have three 12 hour days, then two shorter days, then another 12 hour day, then I start a course for 8 days…8 days where the hours are 7am-10pm. Very, verrrrry long days. Exhausting.

I think I need to find the joy in things…when I talk to my grandparents or my family, or some friends, I feel happier. Often I also buy myself cashew milk mixes or juices as a treat to look forward to.

For instance, right now I’m facing a choice point: do I eat a donut or do I go upstairs without eating a donut? I swear to myself that I don’t need it and that I won’t eat it, but then when I’m feeling kind of blah, I want one. Staring at my body in the shower, I can really see just how I haven’t been taking care of it…specifically in what I eat because my gut is bloated.

One thing to remind myself of is that…I’m always with me. No matter where I go. So, where will I be able to accept myself fully and completely and create my own happiness?

That’s the question. xo



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