All Kinds of Sick

For the last couple of days I have been feeling the nagging pain in the back of my throat that means I'm getting sick. I knew it would happen eventually, that I would get sick in Ireland, but I really thought that it would be further down the road. As they would say here, fer godsake, I was just sick last week! I came to Ireland with a bad cold, not to mention a double ear infection, so I really thought I would be in the clear. Wrong! My immune system lost any chance of fighting off this bad boy, while also fighting the cold. I'm just not used to this weather. Everything is damp. All the time. Outside, the roads are slick with the constant moisture in the air. Inside, the rooms are muggy, equally full of moisture, as the fresh air is avoided because of the fear of the nip. We've finally gotten our apartment to a fairly balanced temperature, but for the most part, there is no comfortable. Inside is too hot, too stuffy, but outside is too cold. Where is Goldilocks when you need her?

The point is, I'm sick. So, of course, all I want to do is cuddle my mommy and have a bowl of soup and watch crappy TV (crappy, American TV) and just be. Because of this deepseeded need for home when I'm sick, it is not unordinary for my illnesses to be accompanied by a small dose of homesickness. Unfortunately, tonight it feels like the physical sickness and the home sickness have come in equal parts.

Before I left for Ireland, a dear friend of mine made sure to tell me that it wasn't worth it to get homesick. Of course, it would come, she said, but don't let it ruin the experience. So far, I think I've done a really good job at keeping these words in mind. I'll have little moments of missing my mom, or missing friends. I definitely have had times where I just miss America, and having the comfort of knowing what is considered publicly acceptable; knowing where things are, and how things work. But overall, I've tried to make the most of everything around me. Today, though, I just lost it. I miss home. I find that today, I am terribly sad. It is the kind of sadness, to be honest, that I run from. It is the kind of creeping sadness that comes about when I think of my dad, mostly. It is the sadness that feels much like fear - fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of loss. It is the sadness that makes it hard to breathe, hard to think. It is a terribly depressing thing, this sadness, which is why I try to avoid it. I try to not let it take over, but sometimes, it just does. Today, I was sad.

Tomorrow, I will be happy.