I can’t believe it’s almost been a month since I left home. Wait….it hasn’t even been a month yet?!
This week I’ve found myself asking why I feel the way I feel. Why I have felt, on several occasions, the need to get on the next train and go home. My real home. Not just the physical aspect of “home” I’m not just talking about Goshen, Indiana. I’m talking about the people who make up “home” for me. The Bible Memory staff. I miss how we came from different beliefs and backgrounds, but all loved each other so dearly. How everyone was included; there was no one better than the other regardless of job title. My siblings! I feel like I’m missing out on my little sister’s last year of high school, and my little brothers first year of middle school. My mom! Gosh, I miss my mom so much. As I stop and think about why I’m focused on my “home” and not the fact that I am in Chicago, I come to the realization that I don’t feel at home. I feel like my housemates have everything in common with each other and have nothing in common with me. I feel like the black sheep of the house. I’m sure they don’t realize how exclusive they’re actually being, but it still hurts. I’ve never been the one to be excluded from anything so to finally have that happen truly sucks.