Three weeks ago, I bought my ticket home. I was ready. The 2nd case of homesickness hadn’t
worn off and I was struggling in my job.
It was too much; being disconnected from everyone, not living the life I
had imagined, but instead being trapt within the confines of our gated
community day in and day out. No one to
talk to, no time to visit, no light at the end of the tunnel. The promises that had been made seemed like
they would never come true, and if they did it would be months down the road.
So I had to weigh everything: was I prepared to wait that long? The answer at
the time was a resounding “no!”
At first my boss was 100% supportive. He understood how I
felt, understood the isolation. But then after a few days, he started trying to
convince me to stay. Not knowing that my
ticket was already purchased, he tried with great fervor. And dammit, it
started to work. And then--the dog
show. FINALLY!!!! I met my “family” in
Thailand; I met the team that I was supposed to have met months before. The first day wasn’t as successful as I had
imagined, but the 2nd day certainly was a lot better, but the success of the show didn't even really matter when I was surrounded by my new family. Everyone was so supportive and familiar,
like kindred souls reunited. I loved every single one of them from the moment
we were introduced.
Two days later, I
was crying my heartfelt goodbyes to the dogs, rather silly really, since I knew
I would be back to see them again. I was
off to Samui for some much needed R&R.
I had assumed that this week would give me time to sort through
emotions. I'm not exactly sure what happened. Naturally, I fell in love with the island, which made falling in love with Thailand again much easier. I spent hours every day relaxing in the sun, reading good books, spending time with some truly Amazing people. I never wanted to leave the island, that is for sure. Words absolutely cannot do justice to the beauty of those waters. At least not my words, but maybe another author could capture their glory. Of course, I knew this wasn't the sort of place I could live forever, even if I did want to come back, but it was the kind of place that makes you remember why you fell in love in the first place. Before I knew it, that
week was over and I was flying back to Bangkok to wrap up my life in
Thailand and say all the "real" goodbyes.
It was two days later, if I had to pick a moment, that I realized the feeling growing in my heart was melancholy. I made the mistake of going to the 2nd dog show “just
to watch and say goodbye.” Once again
reminded of how much I enjoyed these people and the almost comically relaxed
style of dog shows here, I felt my heart start to weep. As I was trying to leave the show, it
suddenly hit me with all of its force: I wasn’t ready to call it quits on
Thailand. It didn't help that literally everyone there wouldn't LET me leave, even withholding hugs so I would be forced to return the next day. I began realizing I had worked too damn hard
over the past five months to go home and never use those skills again (the ‘coping
with Thailand’ skills). I spoke with a couple
of my new friends and they assured me that I was a valued part of the team. So
then I spoke with Aea and he assured me there was always a spot for me if I
chose to take it. Returning suddenly seemed like less of an option and more of a guarantee.
All that was left was
speaking with my boss if this was what I truly wanted to do. I had five days
to think and prepare.
At one point on Sunday, the reality of leaving hit me
again with such force I wept uncontrollably next to some poor chap on the couch
at the hostel. My dear friend Chase had just said good bye, and our friend Rosa had lost herself on the street. Faced with so much emotion and the overwhelming feeling growing inside of me, I fell apart too. The guy on the couch was just trying to read his book, and there I was, silently
weeping away a few inches from him. To be fair, that’s what you get for sitting
in the MIDDLE of the couch. Dammit.
Rosa and I went out again, trying to squelch that feeling with whiskey, and I think we managed quite well. We definitely scored some memories and quotable lines that I have a feeling will stick with us both for many years. The next day I had planned to leave to see my old landlord again, but I stayed and went out with one of my dog show friends. More whiskey, insane trance clubs, and hours of dancing.... Then a sudden jolting wake-up from house keeping at 11am. I had to get up to Ban Mi to see Pai Lyn again before I left for America the next evening. I made my way through Bangkok, boarded the van, making my familiar trek north one last time. Pai Lyn had known I was coming, but had lost my number and I hers, so we hadn't spoken in weeks. I surprised her for sure, and discovered that she has not been doing so well. My visit was impeccably timed. Once more we shared stories and compared emotions that made our 40 year age difference seem like it was non-existent. She herself was lost and unsure of what to do, where to hang her hat and call home. Finally, I was back on a bus to the city, my final day of preparation before meeting with my boss. Did I want to stay? What would I say? The answer seemed quite obvious, that yes, I was certain I needed to come back. But the act of meeting with him seemed so... final.
It was supposed to happen at my boss's house after exercising
the dogs one “last” time, but instead he called, stuck at the office. So
sweaty, been-traveling-all-day Kayla reboarded the public transit and made her
way to the fancy office that houses my boss 70 hours a week. I was nervous for about two minutes, but then
I remembered how much I enjoy this man, and we proceeded to banter for over an
hour. Of course I was welcome to stay!
It is just up to me to decide where I want to focus my energy. I told him my boys need to come with me, and
I need to show. Beyond that, I would
work/go to school/whatever I could find time for. I just wasn’t ready to say
good bye for good yet. Of course, because he is Kachorn, he was already looking
years ahead. As we speak in the coming weeks, I will need to try to encourage
him to slow down. Let’s get a plan, get me there, and then see how life
unfolds. Saying good-bye to Joom was equally hard, and she was
definitely not satisfied with a “hopefully.”
Seems that regardless of our language barrier, we have forged a
friendship.
My mom, poor mom, has already reacted to my state of “not
knowing” with complete confusion. “Aren’t you ready?” she asked in disbelief. I'm sure if I had had a chance to talk to my dad he would have reacted with the same incredulous confusion. As indicated by my last blog, most of my friends and family haven't been clued into the way my heart has shifted over the last month. The last we spoke, I felt isolated and lied to. They don't realize that I had time to sort through that, that I had time to discover I wasn't lied to but rather I was working on a different schedule.
I miss my family more than words can ever
express… I miss sitting at home watching football, eating dinner together,
bathing dogs while mom grooms. I miss
running to the grocery store with mom and accidentally spending $100 too much. I miss the way my parents bicker. I miss
hanging out at Nick’s house, sometimes barely talking, other times helping him
solve the mystery that is the cabinets.
I miss the craziness of Nate’s house and running around exhausted with
the girls, and sneaking hugs from Henry.
Part of me wants to believe that all of those things are all I need, and
when I go home I will be happy there. I have been trying to sort out what I am doing
with my life all this time, and staying home just never was the answer
however. I also know that I don’t have many years left
where I can excusably run off to Thailand to work for this family. It’s now or
never. And the five months I have spent
here just don’t seem like enough time anymore.
Before I buy another ticket, however, I want to go home and just…breathe.
Decide after I have had time to think. But as I sit here writing this, I know all that is really left to do is sort out the raw details of my return.
