Content note: suicidal ideation.
In December 2013 I wrote a blog post called “take me home,” it was the first time I really blogged about my homesickness and just how much I missed the UK. Earlier that year I alluded to it in a poem entitled “home again.” That was 8 years ago.
I visited the UK for a holiday in April 2015 and wrote a post about how much I was enjoying it. On the way back to France I cried, and continued to cry every day for at least a week after.
By 2019 being away from home was tearing me apart. I’d put Castle on the Hill on repeat and sing it through tears, keeping myself alive when I was ready to give up by repeating to myself over and over, “I will not die here.”
Part of me never believed I’d get back, certainly not to live. Sometimes I’d imagine stepping off the ferry onto British soil and dying because that felt more achievable, it was a safer thing to hope for.
And now, after over 8 years of homesickness, I am finally coming home! The ferry is booked, TiLi and Maurice, my beloved dogs, are coming with me, and I will be home. Perhaps you can imagine just a small amount of the relief, joy and surrealness I am feeling.
I’m coming home.
I DID IT!