This post was difficult to write because I had to really think about how to articulate my feelings into words and I had to take a lot of pauses after becoming emotional. It’s uncomfortable for me to discuss negative feelings. But this is what real life is – a myriad of emotions. The purpose of my blog isn’t solely to present happiness. It’s about a journey, discovery, interests and it would be unauthentic of me to exclude certain sentiments of my experiences.
Lately, I’ve been feeling extremely exhausted and having more down in the dumps sort of days. I’m burned out from being here and I nearly want to compare it to the last 12 months of living in Houston where I felt unsatisfied with too many aspects of my daily life.
First and foremost, the shittiest thing I am unhappy to report is that I have found myself in a similar predicament as back in Houston that I’m rather tired of: doing things alone.
I am tired of eating by myself.
I am tired of visiting places by myself.
I am tired of making plans with myself. (Where is the Spanish boyfriend I so desperately need?! …I am definitely my father’s daughter trying to interject jokes into serious conversations.)
Alone time is valuable when it’s a choice, not when it isn’t.
The problem isn’t that I haven’t made any meaningful connections this whole time. It’s more like, for every meal I share with someone, I have 20 more by myself. And I can count on both hands how many times someone was able to accompany me or invited me to accompany them to do something that didn’t revolve around late night drinking.
My needs for sharing activities, socializing and empathy are not being met here.
Part of that may have to do with the language.
There isn’t a fault, it is what it is, but it isn’t from a lack of trying. 3 months of studying the same subject daily e v e r y d a y and really trying to apply it e v e r y d a y has become daunting. It has been more difficult than I expected for me to pick up the language, to hear it and express myself (although, I may be doing better than I think) and I feel the stress and frustration of it consuming me sometimes. So much so, that I dragged myself to my first ever Meetup event a couple of weeks ago solely for conversing in English. Yes, I willingly went to a social function full of strangers to mingle (ew) because I miss feeling understood when I speak to people.
It was surprisingly fun and I even met a fellow Texan. And, as you may have guessed, that’s where I also met the Englishman with the unquenchable thirst.
Because I thought the event successful, I went back last weekend. I talked to a couple of people I met at the first one and then some new ones. But there’s a tolerance level for things I don’t like to do and it maxed out after an hour at the second event. I don’t like mingling and realized how little I wanted to keep reintroducing myself or talk about why I’m here.
Excuse me, I know we don’t know each other, but can’t we skip all this bullshit and go see a movie?
None of this helps the fact that I miss tangible things that are not here with me (like my sweet cat). But despite my feeling somewhat stifled and stagnant, I am trying to make the most of the time I have left here. I took up some oil painting classes, got a tattoo, I am making one last European excursion that was on my list next to Buñol and Munich, and I am very much looking forward to a visit from my sister (and I guess my brother-in-law, too).