The break has done me a world of good. I wake up and forget what day it is, we've been visiting a lot of sights, seeing family, and I've been taking a heap of photos. You know, the usual holiday stuff. But there is the inevitable bubble bursting feeling, when what you expect to return to, isn't there any more. Now this comes in two ways, what is there, and the less obvious how you feel about it.
I walk into all the shops I used to work at, five years has passed, and I don't see anyone that recognises me. It's becoming really difficult to even arrange a single night in three weeks, to catch up with those that I stayed in contact with. The plans that I came with to stay longer in the USA, started fading from the moment I arrived, at customs, again, when arrived in LA. It continued to fade as it came to pass, that what I thought I had to offer, wasn't really valued in any practical way. In short, it's a great time to come back for a holiday, but living here, is useless. And even if we did, it wouldn't be the same as last time, too much time has passed.
Which brings me to how I feel. As the days turns into weeks, and more things get crossed off the list, the really important shit remains, and that awaits me when I return home. I have a mental illness to deal with, a wife and a family to spend much needed time repairing, a body to get back in shape, a debt to pay off, and most importantly, a new life to find, shaking off the shackles of those who have kept me down.
I've outgrown my past, but I have no idea what holds for me in the future. I'm scared.