Sick, but safely back in Singapore

I am home.

At least, the closest approximation I have to a home.  Part of me still longs for a bit of stability; a house of my own, a family, a place I feel like I belong.  I'll take care of that part of myself later, though, because there's still a lot to do and see before I set my roots down somewhere.

Anyway, physically I'm feeling every so slightly better when I get off the plane.  I woke up a few minutes before we landed and felt bad when the stewardess came by to take away the entire tray of food I couldn't bring myself to touch.  I had really thought I was feeling well enough to eat it until it was in front of me and I caught the smell of the food.  I lost my hunger immediately, and I willed myself back to sleep as a defense against throwing up again.  I'm sure I seriously confused my neighbor, but I really didn't care that much as my chief concern was keeping the contents of my stomach in the right place.

Emotionally, though, I'm a mess.  Walking through the airport SUCKS.  Not because of my stomach, but rather because of the music.  Christmas carols: Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, the Charlie Brown song, ooohhhh....all the songs that remind me the holidays back home.  Of course I start to think about my family and what they'll be doing on Christmas Eve.  The emotional rush of my trip is still with me and I just want someone here to take care of me while I'm sick and alone for the holidays.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I miss my mom and my dog and snow and wrapping up in a blanket by the Christmas tree and big family dinners...

Oh dear god.  I'm crying again.   Perfect.  It only makes it worse that I can't even call home because I've managed to lose my Singaporean sim card.  Oh screw it.  I'm too weak to fight, so I struggle under my ridiculously heavy bags and hobble down the terminal towards the train station, blubbering and snotty.  Every now and then I have to stop, though, as a wave of nausea washes from my stomach to my head and back down again.  I'm sure I must look like a 'suspicious person or article' that Singaporeans are constantly reminded to be wary of, but I don't care.  Just get me HOME!.

Ultimately, I give up on the train and decide to shell out for a taxi.  I head out into a full-on monsoon and throw my gear and myself into the first cab that I can.  It's official: this is the most comfortable cab that has ever existed.  I sink back into the seat and turn my mind off.  It helps that the driver is playing Chinese music and that the sheets of rain pouring down the window are obscuring everything outside.  It's a veil of sheer exhaustion that I'm more than happy to hide behind.

It's hard to snap out of it, though, and when my cab driver misses the normal turn to get to my condo I fumble a minute before telling him just to drop me off at the MRT station that's a short walk from my condo.  Normally, it would take me five minutes to get home; what I've failed to remember, though, is that I left my gate pass, which lets me in the gate nearest my building, in my room so I wouldn't lose it on my trip.  This means I have to walk under the train tracks an extra five minutes to get to the main gate of the compound then turn in and walk a little further along to my building.  Any other day of the year this would have been only a tiny inconvenience, even in the rain.  This is not any other day of the year.

I'm sick, my bags weigh a ton, I'm highly emotional, it's a monsoon...basically, this turns into one of the longest walks of my life.  I stop four times to rest and cry before I arrive outside my condo sweating through two layers of clothes.  I am a hot mess...but I am home.  Fortunately, though, no one else is, so I drop my pack next to the couch, fall onto--and practically through--it, and sleep for five hours. When I wake up mid-afternoon I'm still the only one here, so I just lay back down on the couch and go to sleep.

This cycle repeats (I guess my roommates are out for the holiday) a couple times throughout the day, and despite the fact that I eventually move to my room to sleep, continues basically uninterrupted for the next few days.  I would continue to feel sick for about 3-4 days and I'd guess I only ate a few hundred calories per day, which only added to the fairly significant amount of weight I lost on my holiday.  I came back quite lean and with a nice set of core muscles, at least compared to what I had when I left, but I'm sure a few weeks of ridiculously unhealthy Singaporean food will take care of that.

In any case, it's several days before I can really think about what I put myself through this past month.  I'm incredibly proud of myself for making it through alone and with all of my belongings still in my possession.  Thanks to the objectivity of time, I can tell you that I absolutely had an incredible time.  It wasn't relaxing in any possible definition of the word, but it was challenging, eye-opening, reassuring, difficult, exhausting, thrilling, colorful, dangerous, exciting, and a million other good things.  I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'm capable of, what role I want religion to play in my life, what bad habits I have left to deal with (like judging people, pushing myself too hard and too fast, spending money to money to make myself feel better, etc.), what good traits I'm developing (self-reliance, patience, flexibility, an eye for details), how to take care of myself, how to meet new people and put myself in new situations...

For as quickly as it went by, I think I'll look back on this trip as one of the defining moments of my life.  It won't be the last trip I take like this (I intend to take longer ones to several countries), but it was the first and the lessons I learned about myself are invaluable.  When it comes down to it, yes, I would have preferred to have traveled with someone.  But on the other hand, when it comes down to it, yes, I can take care of myself and find enjoyment while traveling alone.  I'll probably be solo next time, too, but it doesn't bother me anymore.  I'm ready for the next trip, the next challenge, the next country, the next chapter.

I'm ready for whatever's going to come next.