There's No Place Like Home

I'm not sure I really realized just how introverted I've become. I can get along just fine in a group of strangers for the three minutes of turning around to say hi to someone near you that they do every Sunday at church. But apparently that's where my ability ends. I stand in the lines for meals and smile and try to make small talk, but inwardly I'm cringing. (Side note: Despite that, I've still managed not to be incredibly insulting to someone. Socially awkward? Certainly. Able to use common sense in the midst of it? Absolutely.) Throw in the fact that the tables all have an Important Person sitting at them and I can't even really eat without indigestion. The goal of that, I realize, is to give you a chance to talk with people in an informal setting; to make it easier. For me, it's backfiring mightily. Though it's turning into a great diet plan - when you're so mentally exhausted that you can barely keep from crying, it's hard to eat very much.

I still have two more days here and I'm so ready to be home. I'm learning tons - and maybe that's part of the problem (information overload). But the other issue is simply that I'm finding I really am a homebody. Home, for me, isn't so much a location as much as it's who I'm surrounded by. And finding myself surrounded by people I don't know (and having to be outgoing and friendly all. the. time) is wearing. I suspect (though obviously I don't know for sure since it's not the case) that I'd be doing much better than I am if Tim and the boys were here...because they are my home. When they're around, wherever we are, I'm home.

I miss home.